


If the Sky Was Turning Red

by Jairo



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crazy Stupid Love, M/M, creative genius, footballer madness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:36:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 75,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jairo/pseuds/Jairo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn is a struggling producer who’s looking for that hit song from a once-in-a-lifetime artist. He wants to make the kind of music that will be remembered forever. </p><p>Niall’s a footballer, crazy talented and completely unavoidable.  Niall comes with press and scandals and terrifyingly enthusiastic full-adult fans. Zayn doesn’t want any part of that. (He keeps telling himself).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He’d assumed that supply teaching would be a breeze. Or _substitute teaching,_ as his students who were really into American culture and _Pretty Little Liars_ and _Austin & Ally_ called it. He’d thought that it would be a pleasant-enough, relatively hassle-free way of earning a decent income while he got his music studio up and running. And hey, it would put the Cardiff University English Literature degree (that his mother was _so_ embarrassingly proud of him for) to good use. Thinking back now, he realised that it was naïve of him to not anticipate the challenges of dealing with 8-11 year old children who, even before he’d set foot inside the classroom, had already decided they didn’t have to listen to a word he said.

It wasn’t all bad. After he did set foot into whatever particular classroom he was called to, the little girls were no trouble. Mostly. Smiles from Zayn here and there, a gentle pat on the head as he crouched down to help them with a problem; and suddenly, they were malleable obedient putty in his hands. The boys were another matter altogether. Even the lads who appeared otherwise mild-mannered seemed to view any and every supply teacher as an easy target, a chance to act the fool and look big in front of their mates.

Zayn had quickly learned to set the scene the minute he walked into a classroom – stern face as he entered, sure voice, lesson plan for the day explained immediately, one brief smile to let them know he wasn’t a complete monster and… begin. These children viewed any attempts at overt friendliness and relatability as weakness. Oh, Zayn learned quickly enough. Supply teachers didn’t have the luxury or time to build meaningful bonds and still do a decent job of getting through the day’s readings and worksheets.

Zayn liked teaching, however much he complained about it sometimes to Harry and Danny. It wasn’t his real passion – that title belonged to music - but he did enjoy it and he was pretty good at it, if he did say so himself. At the end of the lessons, the children sometimes asked when he was going to be coming back to sup again. And he liked that being a supply teacher had taught him the value of flexibility and adaptability.

You never really knew what kind of pupils/environment/crazy situations were waiting for you behind that wooden classroom door and all of this had helped him learn to be a little less uptight about things, a little less rigid.

That morning, for instance, just as he was burrowing his head under the covers and preparing for a warm winter snuggle with himself, he’d gotten a call from Edith Neville Primary School in Camden. A certain Ms Hansen was out of action with stomach flu and he was needed to step in for the day and look after her Year 4 pupils. Camden was almost 30 minutes away by bus from Zayn and Danny’s shared flat in trendy bohemian Shoreditch, so by the time Zayn got the call he was already basically late.

He shot out of bed, wincing as the cold air bit at his bare neck and face. He scrapped his hair back into a short pony and did his bare-essentials-hygiene routine (for emergencies only), instead of lounging under the hot shower water like he usually preferred. He was out the door in record time, 12 minutes later. The school was one he’d taught at before, albeit a lower class year, a month earlier. So he already knew his way around and he knew where to get his lesson instructions from Deputy Headmaster Cowell’s office just past the school’s dining hall (where he’d had the most surprisingly awesome steak and kidney pie during his last visit!)

And as it turned out, it would be an easy day for Zayn. Ms Hansen had spent the past week organising for there to be a Career Day in her classroom that day, so Zayn’s instructions were not to teach anything but just to firstly, receive the visiting professionals (generally pupils’ mothers and fathers) and secondly, try to guide the question and answer sessions in a meaningful way.

The 8 year olds in the classroom were buzzing with excitement, all keen to show that they had the mum or dad with the coolest job. Their parents and guests looked on fondly from where they stood at the edges of classroom. The first speaker was a nervous-looking city banker, a stepfather to one of the little girls. He looked rather petrified and Zayn wanted to tell him that the 17 pairs of big unblinking eyes looking at him were _much_ less scary than they looked. The stepfather’s general demeanour of distress didn’t help his speech any; within 2 minutes, the kids were looking a little bored and restless, some yawning. Although to their benefit, most were trying to sit still and be quiet. Zayn’s wasn’t surprised that none of them had any questions after the man had finished explaining the ins and outs of his 9-5.

The next speaker, an older sister of someone, was far more interesting. She walked up to the front of the room, retrieved a complicated-looking spatula from the bag she’d brought. “Guess what I do…” she prompted the children with a slow beam.

One small hand in the back shot up. “Um. A doctor?”

She giggled a little. “My mum wishes.” She fished out a second item, a small mixing bowl.

“Ooh. You’re a cook!” A little girl guessed.

“Yes! That’s right. I’m studying at a hotel school to become a pastry chef.”

“And all of a sudden I’m hungry,” Zayn said with a half-smile that she returned a lot more enthusiastically than he anticipated.

At that moment, a young blond man rushed into the room, obviously late and out of breath, trying to tiptoe in as inconspicuously as possible. Everybody stared at him for a moment before a collective gasp seemed to sound in the room. Followed by excited whispering. Zayn had no idea what was going on.

He decided to just continue normally. He turned to face the Year 4s. “Does anybody know what a pastry chef is?”

Surprisingly, the late guest raised his hand and waved it, smiling and trying to catch Zayn’s attention so that he could answer the question. His smile turned into a sunny devil grin when Zayn stared at him in a way that was clearly unimpressed. The man was young. Nice-looking enough but with a look in eyes that spelled nothing but mischief. Zayn knew that look well. He sent up a belated sympathy prayer for all the teachers who’d had to deal with the blond as a child.

Zayn ignored the waving hand and posed the question to the kids again.

“Is it like the puff pastry that you put on pies?” A dark-haired boy said, scrunching up his nose. Zayn smiled and nodded.

“Right again,” the chef answered. “A pastry chef does make pies. And we also make desserts and breads, too.”

“I like dessert,” another child piped up.

“Me, too,” the obnoxious blond guest said, raising a thumbs-up sign towards the child who’d just spoken. The little girl laughed and raised one back. Zayn took it that they knew each other.

The pastry chef interjected excitedly, “Lucky that! I’ve brought a little surprise for you all!” She was great. “Last night I made chocolate and lemon-blueberry cupcakes for us and now we’re all going to decorate them. I’ve got icing sugar, jelly beans, M&Ms, fruit pastilles, silver baking beads! My Dad and I got a bit carried away preparing for today.”

The rest of her session was so much fun, even for Zayn. Newspapers were laid all over the children’s desk and they were each given a cupcake with a small Tupperware filled with decorating ingredients. Zayn decorated one too, feeling quite proud of his finished product. It was almost a shame to demolish it by eating it. Almost. It was delicious.

The next speaker was a doctor, the next a policeman. A dainty equestrian followed. Then a barrister and a painter after that who got the children to help him paint a big abstract mural that actually turned out awesome. Zayn would’ve bought it if he could.

Finally, towards the end of the school day, Zayn got to find out the reason why the loud and distracting blond was even here (not that he’d been wondering or anything). Apparently Ms Hansen’s schedule for the day had saved the ‘best’ for last. Zayn fought the urge to roll his eyes as the blond strode up to the front of the classroom, bouncing a football against his head as the boys and a few girls cheered. A football that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Even the adults present looked excited. _Honestly_ , Zayn thought. It was just a bloody football.

“Hello, my name is Niall Horan,” the young man announced, wide smile never leaving his face for even a second. “And does anybody know what I do?” He had a distinct Irish lilt to his voice, a certain musicality almost that Zayn appreciated.

“Gunners!” The little girl Niall had interacted with earlier squealed, squirming in her chair from excitement. Niall was her guest, this was her Beyoncé moment. Many of her peers joined in the chanting, “Gunners! Gunners!”

What was ‘Gunners’? Zayn wasn’t quite sure. Something to do with football, he knew that much from having heard the term before. At least he hoped it had to do with football; he hoped that Niall hadn’t just arbitrarily decided to come and bounce a football for no reason.

Before Zayn could do it himself, Niall put up a calming hand to quieten the 7 and 8 year-old buggers. Niall laughed, candid and bright, and said, “Some of you are fans, I see? Good choice you’ve made! I’m Mary-Anne’s uncle and as some of you seem to already know, I’m a striker for Arsenal. Best club in the world, don’t let anybody tell you any different.”

Okay. Okay, even Zayn knew what Arsenal was. He was maybe even mildly impressed. And even he knew that a player for Arsenal was probably at least mildly famous, which would explain everyone’s excitement.

Instead of telling the kids about the more glamorous side of being a footballer like Zayn would’ve expected, Niall became quite serious and animated, and he told them all about how hard he’d worked to make it to where he was now. He told them about growing up not having much money in Mullingar and he told them about the years spent on training, and all the injuries and setbacks he’d endured. The Year 4s were completely engrossed, hanging onto his every word. Zayn suspected that Niall was always a compelling storyteller – the kind you couldn’t help but give your undivided attention to.

“I just want you all to know, “ Niall said, looking around at all the little faces, “that if you really want to be something, whether that’s a teacher or a chef or a ballerina, or whatever… you can do it. You just need to work hard and do your very best at all times. Don’t let anybody tell you you can’t do it. Plenty of people back home in Ireland thought that I was wasting my time on a foolish dream. Luckily I didn’t listen.”

Those words made something small and hopeful rise up in Zayn’s chest. His recording studio wasn’t doing nearly as well as he would’ve liked. At all. And lately, he’d been wondering if he should give it up and concentrate on teaching full-time. Teaching was a steady source of respectable income and he wondered if he was a fool for so badly wanting to do something else. But maybe he wasn’t a fool. Maybe he was just a young man with a dream that he wasn’t quite ready to give up.

When Niall was done speaking, he handed out child-size Arsenal jerseys that had been signed by the entire team and Zayn actually thought that a few of the young boys in the class were about to hyperventilate and/or spontaneously combust from excitement.

Soon after this, the school day ended, and the pupils and guests began clearing out. When Zayn was the last man standing, he was left with was a room that was in a shambolic state after the day’s activities. He figured the least he could do was clean up a little before he left. So he did just that, picking up cupcake wrappers and throwing away paint-sploshed newspapers. He was almost done with what he could when the classroom door swung open and Niall strode in, panting and red-faced. But still smiling. Always smiling.

“Oh good. You’re still here!” Niall said, walking closer.

“Um… Can I help you with something? Did Mary-Anne forget something?”

Niall shook his head. “No. She’s waiting outside with her friend and his parents. I just –“

Niall paused and for a second he looked petrified or nervous or _something_. And to be honest, it was freaking Zayn the hell out.

Niall’s face cleared and the confidence was back. “I just wanted to ask you for your number, actually. I was thinking as I was leaving that I’ll probably never see you again and it suddenly occurred to me that I could change that. So, what do you say?”

His accent was delicious.

“I don’t even know you,” Zayn stated flatly. It may have sounded cold but really he was just caught off guard. “We haven’t even had a conversation – what would you want my number for? Do you even know my name?”

Niall laughed. “It’s Mr Malik. I want your number precisely so that we can have a conversation. Right? Look, you seem nice, although maybe a little uptight –“

Zayn’s eyes narrowed.

Niall continued like he didn’t even notice. “Plus, let me be honest, I think you’re gorgeous. There’s no hidden meaning or mystery, I just want your number. Yes or no, it’s cool. Just thought there’d be no harm in asking.”

Zayn appraised him coolly, amber-brown eyes looking into blue ones. Niall’s eyes were pretty. But Niall was too bright, too loud, too sure, too _footballer_ – everything Zayn didn’t know or understand. He sighed. “I’m going to have to say no. Sorry... I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Niall nodded slowly. “I already figured you were going to say no about 20 seconds ago. My approach was probably all wrong – usually I’m more – anyway, it’s fine. Uh, thanks for having us today. It was really a good day.” He shrugged good-naturedly and turned to walk away.

Just before he reached the door, he turned back around suddenly, and that look of mischief was back in his eyes. “Hey, are you a football fan?”

Before Zayn could answer that he most definitely was not, Niall carried on quickly, “It’s just that I have tickets for our next match. They’re great seats. Maybe you and your mates might want to come.” Niall dug into his glossy designer wallet and handed Zayn three tickets. VIP executive box. Zayn stared at them in his hand and by the time he thought to look up and give them back to Niall, he was standing alone in the classroom.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! :)

The fact that Zayn, maybe, wanted to go to the match was no big deal. At all. Okay?

He rationalised the whole thing in his head. _These were VIP tickets. For Arsenal vs Sunderland. Call it morbid curiosity. The need to find out what the big fuss was. To see for himself, up close and personal, why this game had the ability to reduce his grown uncles to messy tears whenever their favourite team lost._

It wasn’t that he was completely unfamiliar with football. He didn’t live under a rock, after all. In fact, when he was a lot younger, in a bid to try and fit in at school, he’d even played once in a while. But he was never good at it and eventually he realised that it wasn’t worth it. He had always been an artistic soul, much happier listening to music and writing songs and doodling in his notebooks while his teachers droned on and on.

He didn't know if it was a good idea, though. Going to the game of some cocky little shit who obviously just wanted in his pants? Zayn was not necessarily opposed to people getting into his pants. But it was usually done on his own terms, by people who more or less ran in the same circles as him. He didn't know if he should just throw the tickets away and forget the whole thing. Also, he didn't know why he was overthinking this so much. What he needed was a second opinion from someone sound and wise. But because he didn't know anybody who fit that criteria, he asked his best friend Harry.

Zayn casually mentioned the whole thing one night to Harry while they were messing about in the music studio, a few days after Niall had given him the tickets and two days before the game in question. The third bedroom in Zayn and Harry's flat doubled as Zayn's studio, crammed with pretty decent equipment, dozens of old school vinyls and some of Zayn's art from college. (He was looking into moving into more permanent premises. Eventually. You know, as soon as he could afford something that wasn't in the shadiest scummiest hovel in London.) Harry and Zayn were polar opposites when it came to musical taste but Harry did have a good ear, so a lot of times Zayn would drag him into the studio to listen to a new beat.

"Bro. Remember that teaching gig I did the other day?" This was Zayn's opening, as he fiddled with a knob for bass, not quite looking at Harry.

"The one where you made cupcakes but didn't bring me any? Yes, I remember."

"I didn't make them - she'd already - never mind.. Yeah. Um. There was this guy there, too." Zayn bit his lip.

Harry stopped chewing the peanut butter and banana sandwich he'd been devouring, smiling ever so slightly. "Yeah? And?"

"There's not much to tell, actually. I spoke to him for all of two minutes. He asked for my number but I said no because... Because, I don't know, those two minutes were strange. But then he gave me, like, tickets."

"Tickets for...?"

"Football. Um, Arsenal. Strange enough, he plays for them? He just sprung the tickets on me, like, and he left before I could give them back!" It felt important to explain that.

Harry leaned forward in his twisty chair. "An Arsenal player was at that kiddies Career Day? Jeepers. Career Days have certainly improved since I was in school. Wait - so this guy was interested in you and you said no and he still gave you tickets?"

"Pretty sure he didn't exactly have to go out of his way," Zayn grumbled. "He probably has 20 more of those tickets that he hands out to poor sucker groupies he wants to fuck."

"You're such a cynic. It's a little sad." Harry shook his head lazily. "You might be right, of course. _Or..._  here's a wild thought, it could just be that he wanted to do something nice for you."

"He doesn't know me," Zayn insisted. He stole the remaining part of Harry's sandwich. "People don't do nice things for strangers. Not without wanting something in return."

"Cynic. But you're probably right. And hey, so what? So what if he gave you tickets hoping to get a little _something-something_ in return? You can still go to the game and you can still say no to _something-something_ if you want. So, are you going to go?"

The question of the week. "Dunno. Yeah, I mean - No. I dunno. Probably not. It's whatever, I don't even know why I brought it up, actually."

Harry looked across at him in mild exasperation/amusement, not saying anything more.

"This song is missing something," Zayn said, swiftly changing the subject and turning the volume up a tad. "The drums don't sound right to me. I can't quite figure it out..."

"It sounds really good to me, mate. But play it again," Harry answered, leaning back and closing his eyes in concentration.

Zayn really appreciated the fact that Harry always knew when to drop a certain subject, when Zayn no longer wanted to talk about something.

An hour later, as they parted ways to go pass out in their respective bedrooms, Zayn randomly blurted out, "If I wanted to go, would you come with me?"

Harry nodded. And that was that. "'Night."

=========

And then because he still had one more unattached ticket, he decided to give it to his other close friend (and cousin) Isar. Maybe if Zayn bribed him with this, Isar would finally stop telling strangers at parties the story of how Zayn drank too much orange squash one night when they were 5 years old and peed the bed, and then ran away (to the street corner a block away) because he'd been so sure that his parents would be cross.

They were 23 years old now. Enough with the story!

Zayn wasn't holding his breath that Isar would quite be able to contain himself in future. Isar did jump on Zayn and kiss his face a bunch of times when he saw the tickets, though.

========

The match was madness. Exhilarating, thrilling, hold-your-breath madness. Even in the relatively calmer atmosphere of the 8-seater glass-enclassed executive box he was sitting in at Emirates Stadium, Zayn could still feel what it might be like for everybody experiencing the game _ou_ _t there_. The stadium stands were a packed sea of red and white and everybody seemed to move as one, united in this rare way by their love for their teams. It was, dare he say, beautiful.

It was nice to be in the warm cosy box, though. It was fucking freezing outside.

When Zayn first caught sight of Niall moving across the field, his breath hitched for a second, almost in surprise. It was weird; like, he'd known that Niall would be playing because Niall had told him obviously - but at the same time, actually seeing him out there on the field, tearing up and down the grass like he was born for this... It made Niall seem more real. He wasn't just an obnoxious uncle in a classroom, or just a chancer who looked like he'd be up for fucking anything with two legs. He was those things of course, but he was also someone who looked so completely driven and passionate about what he was doing in that moment. And that was something that Zayn had always admired in people.

Besides Zayn, Harry and Isar, the occupants in the box were females, teetering in odds-defying high heels and carrying designer purses. Footballers' girlfriends or at the very least, latest flings. Zayn assumed. One auburn-haired girl however was dressed in a slightly more formal manner than the others, in a black suit and low kitten heels. She came over to the three lads 10 minutes into the game and introduced herself as Sophia, Niall Horan's assistant.

 _Of course he has an assistant_ , Zayn thought with a tiny mental eye roll. _Although to be fair, he probably needs one._

Sophia told them to help themselves at the bar at the back of the room and that they could also place a food order if they wished, all on the house. Zayn didn't quite feel comfortable enough to get anything other than one beer and his two friends followed his lead. Just because this experience was probably going to be a once in a lifetime thing, didn't mean that Zayn should start acting crazy and become a big spender on Niall's tab.

Sophia seemed nice. Zayn wondered fleetingly if her and Niall had ever... or maybe were still? - Anyway, what did it matter. He was just curious.

Arsenal won 2-1 and Zayn may have cheered along with Harry and Isar. When the match ended, Zayn was a little bummed that it was over. He was glad that he had come in any case. It kind of reminded him that he needed to be more open-minded about things, not always assume that he wouldn't like something just because he wasn't used to it.

As he stood up from the plush seat to leave, he wondered if he should leave a thank-you note with Sophia for her to give to Niall. No, that would be weird. Why was he being weird? He should just tell her to tell Niall 'thank you'.

But as he was making his way over to her, she spoke first, smiling, "Zayn? Niall asked if you could do him a favor, actually. He said that if you came today - and he didn't seem convinced you would - I should ask if you'd mind waiting for him to come up..."

"Um." Zayn looked over at Harry and Isar but they just shrugged, unbothered.

She rushed on quickly, perhaps sensing his indecisiveness, "It's alright; you probably have somewhere you need to get to. You're free to go of course but I think he just wants to say hello." Her face was so open and nice-looking that Zayn found himself pausing and then nodding reluctantly.

She nodded back. "He'll just be a short while. They have press to do after the match, showers, manly chest-bumping in the locker room, I'm sure you can imagine. So, feel free to sit back down and I'll get you all some more of those beers."

"That won't be necessary for me, thank you," Harry butted in apologetically. "I would've loved to meet Niall but I need to get back to town in time for my shift. Gonna be late if I don't leg it right now, actually." He turned to Zayn and their eyes spoke in code.

_\- You gonna be alright if I go?_

_\- Yeah, no worries._

"Well, I'm not gonna be the awkward third wheel. I thought there would be another wheel," Isar said. He looked petulant. "I'm heading out, too, then. Zayn? I guess I'll see you later, yeah? Don't put out on the first date."

Sophia coughed and snorted. Zayn glared at his cousin and wished he had the superhuman power to burn a hole right through him.

And then there were two. The other young ladies had long since made their way to their waiting town cars.

Well, Zayn didn't know Sophia from a bar of soap and he wasn't the type to engage in meaningless chit-chat so he put his buds in his ears and closed his eyes, lounging back in the seat. He was happiest when he was listening to music, it didn't matter where he was. He was in the mood for some older stuff today, so he played some Jodeci, 112, All 4 One and his favorite of all time, 'California Love' by Tupac. He had just pressed play on 'End of the Road' by Boys ll Men when there was a tap on his shoulder.

He opened his eyes to a bright face beaming at him, blue eyes twinkling. Niall was talking but Zayn couldn't hear him. He took his buds out. "Sorry, what?"

"So, you came." Niall sat down in the seat next to Zayn.

"Uh, yeah." Zayn licked his lips, an enduring habit of his. "Thought I might as well not waste great tickets, right? Thanks by the way, you really didn't have to."

Niall grinned some more. "I know. But I wanted to. Did you have a good time? Sophia says you came with two friends? You know, it's not really fair that she found out your name before I did. Where's the justice?" He reached over to dig into a bowl of cashews nearby and he poured a handful into his mouth.

Speaking of Sophia, Zayn had no idea where she'd disappeared off to. "I don't recall you actually asking me my name," Zayn reminded Niall. "You merely confirmed that you didn't know what it was. The name thing, that's usually a good starting point in any first conversation."

"Noted. Zayn." He smiled and it was so infectious that for some reason it made Zayn want to laugh.

"Okay. _Niall._ "

"You didn't answer my question. Did you enjoy yourself? Or at least, were you not bored?" Niall didn't seem particularly worried at the prospect of Zayn being bored; rather, he seemed genuinely interested in the answer, like Zayn was a puzzle he was trying to figure out.

"I wasn't bored," Zayn replied honestly. "It was fun. Congratulations on your win, by the way."

Niall was a lot fitter than Zayn remembered. Maybe it was the way the tight black jumper hung close to his lean but very visible muscles, or perhaps it was the clean showered scent rising from his skin. Or again, maybe it was just the fact that all of a sudden, today, he seemed more real. Or maybe he was just fit.

"So... Sophia said you just wanted to say hello," Zayn said, suddenly feeling a little out of sorts. He stood up and stretched. "I guess we've done that. So.. I'm gonna go?" He hated that he phrased that like a question.

Niall remained seated and he looked up at Zayn. "Do you really want to go?"

"It's not about wanting to go or not wanting to go. I just am. Going."

Niall laughed loud like Zayn amused him greatly. "The lads are going to this club we know in Stanmore. We're celebrating! The craic will be like none you've ever experienced, swear on my life. Swear on these cashews. Come with me."

Zayn looked down at him, dubious, and he thought about it.

Bad idea this was.

However, as with most bad ideas, it appeared it was going to happen despite sense and reason cautioning otherwise.


	3. Chapter 3

"Am I even dressed nice enough to get in?" Zayn asked Niall as they made their way down the stairs leading away from the executive box suite. Zayn, as a rule, was never _ever_ shabbily dressed. But he hadn't exactly come to this match wearing his Sunday best either. He was in jeans, Nike trainers and a nice enough burgundy winter coat. He didn't know what kind of dress code a club frequented by Premier League footballers had.

Niall gave him a once-over from head to toe and he managed to make those 3 seconds as dirty as anything. When he spoke, his voice was warm. "You have nothing to worry about, trust me."

"If you say so."

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Zayn stopped for a moment to text Harry and tell him that he was going out. He wondered whether Harry would be surprised. Probably not. When he looked up from his phone, Niall was watching him, contemplatively with his head tilted to the side.

"What?" Zayn asked, feeling awkwardly self-aware as though he had bright green spinach between his teeth. He scratched at his stubble.

Niall smiled. "Nothing. I'm just wondering - do you really want to go to a dark noisy club and sit in some cordoned-off VIP area all night? It's just that, it doesn't really seem like your thing... We can do something else."

Zayn bristled somewhat and he wasn't even really sure why. He just did. "What do you mean 'not my thing'? You don't really know anything about what my thing is, do you? So maybe you shouldn't make assumptions."

There was a short pause and then Niall nodded. "You're right. I don't know anything. But I'd like to. Sorry if I offended you. Okay. Club it is then. " He smiled at him and Zayn felt like an idiot. Zayn suddenly felt like bailing; obviously he wasn't fit for normal cordial social interaction. He didn't even know how Niall had managed to get him here in the first place, when just 24 hours ago Zayn hadn't even been sure he was going to the match at all. The sensible thing here would be to just say bye and put a stop to this crazy idea of going to hang out with a bunch of rich strangers.

But then Niall was still smiling with his rosy pink lips. And he was saying, "Let's go." Zayn reminded himself that he'd been saying just an hour earlier that he wanted to try new things. They continued walking, past the player's stadium entrance and towards the car parking. The area was pretty deserted by now, save for a few cars - a Porsche Cayenne and a few Mercs.

Niall stopped in front of a black Range Rover Sport and he motioned for Zayn to get inside. Zayn climbed into the passenger seat and had to step around Nandos packets and bright-coloured foil wrappers for Marks and Spencers chocolates.

"I thought athletes were on super strict diets. Spinach smoothies and acai bowls, " Zayn said, teasing because Niall looked sheepish as he moved to throw the rubbish on the back seat.

"Ew," Niall said. He laughed and started up the car. "Sorry about the rubbish. I treat myself once in a while. Probably shouldn't do it before I play but it doesn't seem to affect me negatively. The opposite in fact. And as my friend Louis says, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. So... is that the type of thing you like, Zayn? You one of those super-smart teacher health nuts? Kale crisps instead of real crisps, faux cheese that's made from cashews and does not in fact taste like cheese at all?" He shook his head. "The team's dietician really tried to sell it. What's wrong with good old fashioned real cheese made from cows and stuff, I say?"

The look of trauma on Niall's face was so funny that Zayn giggled before he could stop himself. Niall glanced over at him and laughed too, looking pleased with himself.

They were moving through the night-time streets of London and Zayn looked outside his window, a little awed. He couldn't ever explain it to anyone or himself but bright city lights had always had an effect on him. He loved seeing the city all lit up, young people bustling around on the pavements ready for a night out, cars packed full with noisy occupants. It made him feel alive and connected to this city, a part of something that was both very current and as old as time.

Zayn was startled out of his people-watching when Niall said, "So, what _are_ you into? I know you're a teacher. Who probably moonlights as a model in his spare hours. And I know that the kids in my niece's class seemed to like you loads. Kids see through all bullshit so I'm going to assume there's nothing bullshit about you... What else? - Oh, you like Boys ll Men! Me too. I could hear it playing through your earphones."

Zayn was a little surprised by all this but he said with a slow shrug, "I don't like Boys ll Men. One does not just like Boys ll Men. I love them. Best boy band in existence. Man band, whatever."

Niall made a small face as he made yet another left turn. "They're really good, I'll give you that. But best boy band in existence? As in, ever? When Westlife exists??"

"Westlife? Over Boys ll Men?" Zayn asked incredulously. He said jokingly, "Take it back right now!"

"I will not. Westlife are legends. Did you know they played Croke Park Stadium like 3 times? Legends!"

Zayn shook his head but for some reason was pretty sure he was smiling. "But _Boys ll Men_. I'd even put N Sync over Westlife. Not sure I can trust your opinion on anything else after this. What are you going to say next? Miley Cyrus over Adele?" When Niall didn't move to immediately deny it and there was only hilarious silence from him, Zayn pretended to cover his face in despair.

Laughter roaring out of his chest in between sentences, Niall insisted, "Come on! Miley is a cultural phenomenon! Don't knock her. She was able to completely reinvent herself and get everybody talking. And her music is fun. She seems fun. I dig it."

Actually, Zayn appreciated most music and he knew of course that personal taste in music was exactly that - personal. People liked what they liked. And hey, Zayn liked Miley well enough. But come on now, Miley over Adele?

"I'm afraid to ask you about who else you prefer. You'll probably say you like - never mind, let me not even say it out loud. It would break my heart," Zayn said.

"Well. I'd force myself to say the opposite, wouldn't I? Whatever it is. Because I'd never ever break your heart," Niall said earnestly, eyes twinkling. "Even if I have to lie outright and say I hate Westlife. That would break _my_ heart but I'd do it."

"Ah. A smooth talker," Zayn murmured in response, looking out the window again, in case his suddenly warm cheeks were visible. "But then again, I already knew that."

"You wound me! I'm trying to show you that my intentions are good and honourable," Niall said, not even trying to sound like he was serious. He suddenly stopped the Range Rover opposite a swanky brick building that seemed to be pulsating with music. They were now parked on a busy street filled with other similar nightclubs and restaurants. Niall turned the car off. "We're here. Crikey, usually that car trip feels so much longer."

Once they'd stepped outside of the car, Niall handed his car keys to the waiting valet. Zayn fought the urge to roll his eyes at the whole scene.

"You ready?" Niall asked, grabbing him around the wrist so as to pull him towards the right entrance. "I'm really glad you're here. " Niall's hand was warm and unexpectedly soft but his grip was steady.

The bouncers greeted Niall heartily, lots of shouting and smiles and incoherent Irish slang. Niall and Zayn were waved inside and Zayn was happy to note that nobody even gave his outfit a second glance. The latest Calvin Harris single was blaring throughout the club; Zayn was used to that part of things. However, this definitely was not like the rowdy dim-lighted places Zayn used to frequent with his friends during his uni days. This place was a lot nicer and everybody appeared that much more well-behaved. And miles better dressed.

Niall led Zayn up a carpeted staircase to the expansive VIP room, which were manned by several more bouncers. Niall greeted dozens and dozens of people. He hugged and laughed and pushed people over playfully as they talked to him. It seemed like he knew everybody and then some. Zayn assumed that some of these people were his teammates. At least a couple others Zayn thought he recognized from TV. A few people were throwing curious glances Zayn's way where he stood beside Niall but he pretended not to notice. He wondered what assumptions all these people were making about him.

He needed a drink. He stepped away from Niall and walked to the bar without a word. He needed something strong and stupidly sweet. A minute later, he was sipping on a Cherry Vodka Sour while seated on a sofa that was already occupied by two blitzed-drunk girls who kept squealing about who they were going home with. This was where Niall found Zayn.

Niall sat down next to him, their knees touching. Niall bit his lip as he observed Zayn for a moment. "Hey... Sorry about all that, I needed to talk to my captain. Saw you go off and then I couldn't find you."

"It's cool. Got thirsty."

"Oh. Okay. What is that you're drinking anyway? It looks suspiciously red." And indeed, Niall regarded the drink with amused suspicion.

"It's a Cherry something. It's pretty good. Try it." Zayn held up the drink to Niall's lips and Niall took the minutest sip. He took another small sip. Zayn had the thought that his lips looked soft yet firm, like they'd be really satisfying to kiss. Not that Zayn was planning on kissing him.

Niall assented, "Hmm. Yeah, it tastes okay. A lot less scary than it looks. I prefer a nice cold beer myself," Niall said, settling back against the sofa. The girls next to them suddenly stood up and attempted to dance as a Beyonce song came on. They were a mess and it was quite hilarious.

"Aren't you gonna have a drink?" Zayn asked Niall eventually. His Cherry Vodka Sour was nearly demolished at this point and he had a nice buzz going.

But Niall shook his head and smiled. "No, I'm good. Happy to just chill tonight. Designated driver and all. Gotta get your soon-to-be drunken arse home safe..." It was said teasingly but it made Zayn feel a little bad because it was like Zayn was having all the fun and Niall was having to spend his night stone-cold sober because of him. Niall didn't really strike Zayn as the kind of guy who usually spent nights at clubs sober.

People were still coming over to say hello to Niall and it got to the point where they were unable to hold a 3-sentence conversation without being interrupted. Niall introduced him to person after person, and pretty soon Zayn was really quite tired of having to smile at everybody who wandered over. He wasn't even sure what he was doing here really. He was with a guy he barely knew and who he couldn't get to know anyway... not in this setting. He was tired and he missed his bed and his studio. It hit him then that this whole thing was stupid and he really just wanted to go home.

He turned to Niall when some redhead socialite Zayn vaguely recognized from TOWIE finally went away. Zayn blurted out, "Listen. Um. I'm going to go. I think I can find a cab."

Niall looked surprised and disappointed. "What. Why? Is something wrong? Are you tired?"

"No - well, yes. But that's not why - this is not really my scene. It's like I'm here by myself anyway and, like, it's not your fault, I know. These are your friends. But I'm - gonna go." Zayn stood up.

"Wait." Niall laughed a little but it didn't sound like a happy laugh. "Wait. Let me get this straight. I offered to take us somewhere else because I didn't think you would like it here.... But you insisted on coming here because you felt like I was making assumptions about what you are or aren't into. And now, you're leaving just like that... because you're not into this. Do you see the irony here?"

"So what? I came because I wanted to see what I thought of it, without you already telling me what I'd think of it! Now I've seen it and I want to go. So what?" Zayn wasn't quite sure why he was getting so riled up.

Niall stood up too. They were eye level now, looking straight at each other. Niall nodded after a moment. "Okay. Fine. More trouble than its worth, to be honest. I'll drive you home."

"No need. I think I saw cabs outside. I'll just get one," Zayn insisted, turning to leave.

"Are you always this stubborn? I brought you here. Let me take you home. Then I'll leave you the hell alone since that's what you obviously want."

Zayn really did not appreciate his tone. "I don't need a ride. I'll get home. _Bye._ Good luck with the rest of your season, yeah? And maybe the next person you wanna ask out, you'll take the hint from the get go and not go through all the trouble of bribing with tickets and what-not."

"Bribing??"

Niall surprised Zayn with what he did next. He took Zayn's hand and pulled him back down to sit on the couch. It was such a hard tug that Zayn came right down with no resistance. He turned to Niall, about to curse and tell him off, but stopped when he saw how pissed off Niall himself was.

"Sorry," Niall started tersely, supposedly talking about the pulling. "But just listen for one minute. And then you can do whatever the fuck you want. First of all, if I really bribed you, what does that make you for taking the tickets and coming to the match? Huh? I didn't bribe you. I just wanted to see you again. Can't imagine why now. You're completely up yourself, mate."

"Excuse me. How am I up myself??"

"You didn't even give this place a chance. And fine, that's your choice. I can respect that. But you don't have to be rude about it and you don't have to act like I dragged you somewhere against your will."

Talk about blowing things out of proportion. "I was never rude. All I said was that I was ready to go and I'd find my own way. Just because you're one of those spoiled little boys who can't handle rejection, is not my fucking problem. Alright?" Zayn wasn't entirely sure what was happening right now. Sometimes he just said stuff and he didn't even know if he really meant them. He saw that people around them were staring at the two of them, and it was the last thing he needed.

"I can handle rejection just fine," Niall retorted. "I'm not against you wanting to go right now, I'm against the fact that you're an arrogant prick and it seems nobody's ever told you."

"I'm an arrogant prick for what? For refusing a lift?"

"It has nothing to - You know what, never mind... I feel so sorry for the next person who even tries to ask you out. You'll probably club them over the head just for speaking to you and then you'll make a run for it." Niall stood up first this time, calm now and obviously so so over it.

"Okay, Niall. I won't even ask how that made sense in your head. Cheers." Zayn moved to slide past him but at the same moment Niall moved in the opposite direction and their chests crashed together. _For fucks sake._ Zayn stared at Niall stonily and Niall glared right back. Zayn's gaze flickered down to Niall's lips and god dammit they were still as firm-looking and pink and infuriating as they'd been all evening.

Zayn's eyes moved back up to Niall's. The blue eyes were narrowed and angry but still so nice to look at and before Zayn could chicken out, he allowed himself one thing. He closed his eyes and touched his lips to Niall's, so so softly. Then he did it again, not ready to open his eyes and see Niall's reaction.

A second later, he was being pushed and backed into one of the nearby steel pillars that stood in the VIP. Zayn opened his eyes in mild alarm. His back hit the cold surface and Niall's body was the driving force, pressed up hard against his. Niall seemed to groan in complete exasperation (or defeat) before he was kissing Zayn, properly this time. The things Niall was doing with his tongue made Zayn feel light-headed and he was glad for the support of the pillar. Pretty soon, he was kissing back just as enthusiastically. Niall locked their hands over Zayn's head and he snuck a series of dizzying kisses along Zayn's exposed neck before reattaching their lips again. The kiss went from sweet to wild back to sweet again and every time it turned, Zayn's stomach dipped and turned too, in the nicest fucking way.

They pulled back what could have been anything from 5 to 20 minutes later, breathing heavily and coats strangely in disarray. They looked at each other in sheepish wonder.

Niall started laughing, shaking his head as his hands slipped down to Zayn's waist. And Zayn really honestly couldn't help the way his lips lifted into a little smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I cringed so hard even typing the word "nandos" lmao. But just because it's a horrible horrible cliche doesn't mean we can't ever use it, right?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little longer than usual because I didn't write 2 chapters this week :)

As his senses slowly returned to him - the Big Sean tune bumping throughout the club, the people dancing all around them, the faint hint of potent alcohol in the air - Zayn began to feel a little something like embarrassment as he looked at Niall standing right in front of him. Because like, he'd practically yelled at the guy and insisted that he wanted to leave, and then he'd... kissed him?

Niall laughed and took the minutest step back. "The look on your face... what are you thinking right now?"

"Um. I'm not sure actually..." Zayn was thinking that Niall probably thought he was bipolar or something. He was thinking that maybe that Cherry-vodka-whatever had been stronger than he'd thought. He was thinking that Niall had the cutest dimple on his chin.

"Do you still want to leave?" Niall stepped close again. There was no pressure, the way he said it. Much like everything he said, he seemed to merely be asking because he was curious. His face and voice were completely chill and the only indication there was that he maybe wasn't so chill, was the fact that he didn't seem to be able to tear his eyes away from Zayn's lips for longer than 0.5 seconds at a time.

"I could stay for a bit," Zayn said after a moment. Make of it what you will; he was suddenly in much less of a hurry to leave. Niall beamed and leaned in to kiss him again, the nice scent of his cologne enveloping Zayn. Just as their lips collided, they were interrupted by an upbeat male voice. Loudly interrupted.

"Stop swopping saliva in some seedy corner! Who's this? We're meant to be celebrating!" The guy, about the same height as Niall but with brown wispy hair and expressive eyebrows, threw an arm around Niall and looked back at Zayn. He appeared to be silently demanding an introduction.

"Lou, this is Zayn," Niall said, sounding fond and exasperated in equal parts. But mostly fond, actually. "Zayn, this rude and tactless fucker of a teammate is my friend Louis. Here's a tip for you, ignore 87% of everything he says."

Zayn nodded in Louis' direction, not really sure what to make of him.

And Louis apparently thought something similar of him because Zayn distinctly heard Louis stage whisper into Niall's ear, "Look, I get it. He's fit. But can't you do this another time? You can fuck and exchange saliva any other day, with anyone you want, actually. But you know what? What you can't do every night is party with your brothers, your teammates, after we've just won a major shit-hard match..."

"All of us aren't even here," Niall said with a bit of a short laugh. "Haven't seen Marco or Saul. Or Jamie. The four of us will party with you in spirit. I'm not drinking tonight anyway, I have my car."

Zayn was awkwardly looking between the two of them, feeling rather affronted by what Louis had just said. He'd made him sound like some kind of football groupie or something. That was well out of order.

Louis shrugged and took a large gulp from the almost-empty beer in his hand. "Well, okay. You've obviously made up your mind so I'll leave you to it. Use protection! ... Nice to meet you, Zach."

"It's Zayn - " Niall was saying, but Louis had already sauntered off. Niall turned back to Zayn. "Sorry. He's a bit much sometimes but he's a good friend. A good person... This setting probably isn't ideal for leaving the best impression." He glanced around. And almost as if to prove his point, another one of Niall's friends who Zayn had met earlier was tearing off his shirt and attempting to get up on one of the tables. Zayn snorted; that scene distinctly reminded him of Harry.

"It's fine," Zayn said with a shrug. "I don't know him. And he doesn't know me. So it's whatever, you know? Doesn't really matter." Well. It did matter, actually. Even though Zayn wanted to convince himself it didn't. He didn't like the assumptions that people were making about him just because he was being seen with Niall tonight. And he didn't like that they probably already disliked him or even worse, did not respect him.

 _But._.. Niall seemed nice and really very cute. And he was a good kisser... and even better, the sure and sudden way he'd restrained Zayn's arms while they kissed gave a hint as to what he would be like in bed. Who was Zayn kidding, of course he wanted to sleep with Niall. Did that make him a groupie?

Well, then the thing to do would be to behave like the anti-groupie. Right? That meant that there should be no groupie-esque going home with Niall at the end of the night. He'd find someone else to fuck away this sudden-onset _want_ buzzing all through his body.

"Let's go. Do you wanna go? Somewhere quieter, I mean?" Niall asked suddenly. And this time, it was like _he_ wanted to go.

 _Oh_. Okay. Zayn wasn't born yesterday. He knew what that meant.

 _Fuck it._ He reasoned with himself quickly - he could sleep with whoever he wanted and had always done so. He'd probably never see Niall again, anyway..

"Yeah, let's go," Zayn said, his heart rate picking up.

Niall nodded, looking so so happy. "Great. Let me go say bye to Lou, gimme 5 seconds, top." He went off and appeared one minute later in the VIP doorway, gesturing gently at Zayn with his head that they could head out now. It took the valet outside 3 minutes to fetch Niall's Range Rover and then they were off, whizzing through the busy streets again. Zayn swore that he could still hear the club music thudding inside his ear drums. He took a deep breath and rested his head against the seat.

"Ya alright?" Niall asked. "You only had one drink. Weakling, I'll have to show you how its done next time."

Zayn rolled his eyes and sat up straight. "I'm fine. I can handle my liquor. Just, I think that Martin Garrix song is permanently implanted in my brain now. Good thing I like it."

"I think I like you. And that's a good thing, too."

Zayn rolled his eyes again, thinking, _I already wanna fuck. No need to try and butter me up with lines._ He didn't say anything.

Niall did, laughing for the hundredth time that night. "Where are we going? We haven't even said. I'm just driving. We said somewhere quieter, right? Just wanna talk to you properly. But... nothing good is really open at this time apart from more clubs and pubs. I suppose a pub is technically quieter? - we could... or we could go somewhere to sit down down and have something to eat?"

Zayn wrinkled his nose in confusion and distaste.

"Okay, I'll take that as a no, then," Niall said. "You really have an expressive face, anyone ever tell you that? Hold your cringe if you can because I really do have to ask this next question - uh, so, your place or mine?"

"Um, mine? It's about 10 minutes from here." Zayn preferred to do things on his own turf, on his own terms. All things, but especially this. It meant that he wasn't the one who had to do the awkward early morning dance of singletons the world over, _do I sleep in? Do I leave him a note before I go? Where can I try to clean my teeth?_ It also meant that he could pretend not to care when he woke up alone.

"Alright. Direct me from here."

======

Every time you let somebody new into your flat, you see it through their eyes, afresh all over again. You notice things you don't normally really see because you've gotten so used to them. The army green sofas Harry's mom donated and how they really could do with a cleaning. The slightly shabby living room carpet. The empty takeaway box near the couch that you forgot to throw out before you went out that evening.

Zayn had a sudden urge to flit around the flat and clean up as best as he could. But, what was done was done. Anyway, Niall was currently very busy looking at the photographs on top of the bookshelf and didn't really seem to notice much else.

"You used to have a blonde streak in your hair, wow. Would've liked to see that. - This your family?"

Zayn walked over to where he was and looked at the framed picture too. It was taken from last Christmas. His family didn't technically celebrate the religious holiday but they did like the festivity of the season, the big dinners and sense of togetherness after being sprinkled all over England for most of the year. "Yeah. My parents and sisters... As for the hair, let's just say I lost a bet. It was a horrid 2 months." The kids at the schools Zayn went to teach at wouldn't stop asking him about it. And his cousin Isar decided to forget his name and call him Skunk for the whole 8 weeks.

"Well, I like it. - Who's this with you here?"

"Harry, my best mate. He lives here as well, actually. Think he's still out working..." Hint, hint.

Niall appeared oblivious. He just smiled at him. "I know I'm being nosy, looking at all your pictures. But I like to do it because it's a good way to figure out some things about someone. It's always interesting, in any case." He pointed at one of Zayn and Harry dressed in neon-glo outfits with army green war paint all over their faces. "See, I just know there's a good story behind that one."

"There is." Zayn left it at that, not offering any more information although that was clearly an opening to share. Niall nodded and moved on to the other pictures, offering comments here and there.

Eventually, he went over to plonk down on the sofa. Zayn was already sitting, having long since abandoned looking at the dozens of photographs dotted around the living room. "I like your flat. It's telling me loads about you. But I guess I'll have to see if I can find out the rest myself," Niall said with a little wink. He picked up a Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie novel on the coffee table that Zayn had left there earlier. "I don't know about you but I haven't eaten since before the match, I'm literally starving. What's the nearest takeaway around here?"

What was this? What was happening - why hadn't Niall jumped on him the second they'd walked into this flat? Why weren't they in the bedroom at this very second? Why were they talking about family photographs and takeaways?? Chitchatting on the sofa???

But Zayn knew better than to come between a man and his food. He got up and fetched a menu pamphlet from the kitchen drawer where Harry stored them all. The nearest Indian takeway. Everybody loved Indian. Niall took ages looking at the different menu items, asking Zayn for advice and looking like he was making the most crucial decision of his life. When Zayn insisted that he didn't want anything, Niall said, "Well, I'm not eating alone. I'll get enough to share. Because I'm so nice and you're cute." Eventually Niall settled on chicken saffron korma, shikampuri kebabs, chicken samosas and dahi puri.

 _Christ._ He really meant business. 40 minutes later, they were eating on that green sofa and watching an old episode of Top Gear on the telly. Zayn was glad that Niall had ordered a lot of food, it was delicious and he was hungry and he really needed to remember to stop being so stubborn. Niall was hilariously silly and dumb, making Zayn laugh over little things even when he didn't want to. It was maddening to feel your face smiling and widening no matter how hard you tried to stop it, and then to have that laugh tear out of you. It was maddening, but then again it wasn't at all.

When Niall finally took his last bite and patted his belly with a happy sigh, Zayn decided that enough time had been wasted. He wished that he'd had a little more of those drinks at the club, it would make this easier.

But like he'd already noted, enough time had been wasted. He leaned over onto Niall, placing a hand on his chest and bringing their lips together. Smashing them together, more like. Zayn had been waiting to kiss him again all evening.

Niall moaned a little and then mumbled with a giggle, "Oh. Okay." He pulled Zayn fully into his lap and they resumed. Kissing Niall was amazing and Zayn was almost giddy with anticipation thinking about what being fucked by him might be like. He slid a hand underneath Niall's jumper as his tongue dipped in and out of Niall's mouth, running his hands over taut abs and a chest sparingly sprinkled with hair. He got hard just from that because Niall was exactly what he liked. Why was the jumper even still on Niall's body? He pulled back from Niall for a moment to help him take if off.

As Niall threw the black garment aside, he said, "We should probably move this to the bedroom. I don't want Harry to walk in on us and think I'm doing vile things to his friend. Trying to make a good impression here. Otherwise, he might convince you not to let me inside here again."

Zayn had been surging forward to kiss him again but now he stopped. "Look, you don't have to do that..."

"Do what?"

"You don't have to pretend this is some thing. Like you're going to ever come back here again. Like you care what my friends think. We both know what this is, yeah?"

"Uh..." Niall looked confused. "Actually, suddenly I don't know if I do... I thought we were hanging out, getting to know each other?" Then his face cleared. " _Oh._ Oh. You just want... You're not planning to ever see me again."

 _Buzz kill._ "I doubt you were planning a sordid winter romance, either, Niall. Look, it's obvious that we are attracted to each other. And we're here, right now. If you've changed your mind, that's another thing entirely, that's fine. You can leave or you can sleep on the couch or whatever. Just, let's not act like you didn't have one thing on your mind when you asked for the number of some guy you'd never spoken to... Luckily, it's on my mind, too."

Niall shook his head. And then he laughed and it sounded like disbelief. "Are you even real? And please do not take that as some compliment. I just mean, are you actually serious right now? Weren't you the one giving me that whole big speech about not making assumptions about people?"

"So... you don't want to have sex?" Zayn asked, mortified, wondering how he could've got it so wrong.

"God. What is wrong with you? Of course I want - I was just trying to - you know what, just shut up. This was going a lot better when you weren't talking just now." Niall pulled him back into his lap, face so serious now. Focused. Even a little angry. "You want to get fucked? Alright. That's what you're gonna get."

Zayn felt his stomach lurch in anticipation and it was delicious. He licked his lips and moved to get their mouths reattached. But before he could, Niall suddenly pushed him back on the sofa, longways, and then slid on top of him to cover him. Yes, finally, Zayn thought. That heavy steady weight on top of him was exactly what he'd been wanting. He tried to slide his hands down Niall's back but Niall quickly stopped him, grabbing Zayn's forearms and pinning his arms to his side.

"You want me to fuck you?" Niall rumbled into Zayn's neck. Then he began to nibble that neck, gently pulling the skin with his teeth and then soothing the area over his tongue, applying more and more pressure as he went. It started to hurt but not in a way that Zayn wanted him to stop. Zayn squirmed, trying so hard not to make it obvious just how turned on he was.

His arms were still pinned to his sides and it was a shame because he really would've liked to touch Niall. Make him squirm some. As it was, Niall was making him let out these slow low moans because now he was rocking his groin into Zayn's. Hard. Zayn stopped thinking clearly at this point, he didn't care who heard him, he didn't care if they fucked right there on Harry's mother's couch, all he knew was that he wanted it.

Although Zayn's arms were on a no-go area because Niall was unfortunately a lot stronger than he looked, Zayn could still move the rest of his body. He rapidly wrapped his feet around Niall's lower legs, being the one to do the pinning this time.

" _Oh?_ " Niall said with a raised eyebrow. "Can't fuck you if I can't even move enough to take my pants off."

Oh, Zayn badly wanted to be fucked but he also had this cocky blonde exactly where he wanted him - frustrated and not in the driving seat for just a moment. Zayn laughed and didn't remove any pressure. Niall shrugged and instead bent his head again, "Just seems like a waste of time. Seeing as how you're gonna be begging me to take my pants off in a few." He kissed Zayn on the neck again, softer than before this, and somehow that was even worse. Zayn sighed and squirmed again, conspicuously trying to get some pressure down there. Niall finally let go of Zayn's arms.

He began his slow dance of torture, touching Zayn all over - his face, his chest, his thighs - but going nowhere near where Zayn really wanted to be touched. It was so so frustrating. Niall bent down and kissed him again until Zayn felt delirious. Zayn felt almost dizzy and he wondered whether he would pass out when Niall finally fucked him into coming. And oh no, he shouldn't have thought about that because now his dick was so hard it ached.

"You know how hot you are, don't you..." Niall was saying, breathing uneven. "Yeah, you know exactly what you do to people... Probably have them gagging for it all over London, don't you? You definitely know... But, I wonder if you know what it's like to come so hard you swear your heart stops and you die for just a moment." Niall snapped his fingers at the word 'just' and Zayn swore his cock turned to painful solid rock. Niall licked a spot on the base of Zayn's throat. "What it's like to come so fucking hard that you can't help but scream. Because you couldn't shut up in that moment even if the whole world depended on it."

"Well, are you ever going to shut the fuck up and show me? Or you just like hearing the sound of your own voice?" Zayn asked, feigning irritation. It was hard to do because what he really wanted to do was beg him to show him.

"Move your legs." Zayn's hold immediately loosened. The look in Niall's eyes was triumphant. He palmed over the front of Zayn's pants, slowly and excruciatingly, almost like a gift for finally being a good boy. Kissing him like he really meant it. Niall popped open the button on Zayn's jeans and Zayn heard himself moan, "Yes. _Fuck me._ "

"Hmmm?" Niall reached under Zayn's shirt to twist a nipple.

Zayn almost shot up off the couch. "I want.. I want you to fuck me. _Please._ "

Niall grazed his teeth over the very tip of Zayn's nose and licked it. He suddenly stood up from the couch, pulling Zayn up too by the arm. "Since you asked so nicely. C'mere." He looked at Zayn for a few moments. Just looked at Zayn, directly in the eye, and it was like Niall was looking and seeing absolutely everything about him. Zayn didn't entirely like it. "Which room is yours?" Niall asked.

Zayn pointed to the nearest door. Niall grabbed hold of his arm again and began walking him towards there, seemingly strolling and taking his time. Meanwhile Zayn felt like his heart was beating so hard it was gonna jump out of his chest.

Zayn's bedroom was a mess, and the terrible thing was that this wasn't usually the case. But that day he'd torn the place apart trying to find something he liked enough to wear to the match. Maybe later, Zayn would be embarrassed about the state of his room but for now he cared more about just making sure that the bed was clear enough of clothes and shoes.

Niall didn't really seem to care about the state of the room, either. He stood right at the foot of the bed and took his jeans off before throwing them onto a nearby pile of clothes. He beckoned with his finger and told Zayn to do the same. Zayn complied, cheeks marginally hot, before he stood buck naked too.

"Lay on the bed," Niall said idly. "Lay on your stomach."

Again, Zayn complied with not one snarky comment to be heard and Jesus, it was so unlike him. But he couldn't help it. It hadn't been that long since he'd fucked someone, but it had been pretty long since he'd wanted it so bad he felt like his whole body was teetering on the edge of an excruciating cliff, a cliff that promised to bring him sweet spine-tingling release if he just gave in to it. He lay down and waited.

Niall came to the bed too, crawling over to where he was and then biting gently into the lobe of Zayn's ear. "I have a condom with me. But, where do you keep your lube?" Zayn pointed in the general direction of his chest of drawers. "Bottom drawer..."

Niall was gone for a few moments and then he was completely covering Zayn, his body lined along Zayn's back. Zayn moaned into the duvet because this exact position had Niall's dick almost slipping right in between Zayn's arse cheeks. At least it meant he could feel how bad Niall wanted him too, no matter how cool he was seemingly trying to play it. And when Niall was _finally, finally_ fucking him, Zayn wished that he could flip them over just so he could see Niall lose himself in this. Niall was draped along his back, nibbling at Zayn's skin, fucking him with long and deep strokes that threatened to make Zayn fall apart. Zayn cried out more than once, wanting to beg him not to stop but not being of sound enough mind to voice anything remotely coherent.

He'd never really known sex could be this achingly good? It wasn't even rough like how he sometimes liked it or fast like how he preferred it in the mornings; it was just steady, certain; mind-numbingly sexy the way Niall wasn't even doing all that much and yet Zayn was curling his toes until they went numb, Zayn was mumbling and whimpering things he wouldn't be able to repeat even to himself later. When he came, back arching, and Niall holding his shoulders tight, he felt like everything was being drained out of him. He couldn't even yell or scream; the intensity of his orgasm was almost a shock - all he could do was lie there and feel it. Niall came too right then and Zayn didn't even fully realise it, he was so out of it.

When he woke up aching but deliciously well-rested in the morning, Niall was gone and the rest of the bed was cold.


	5. Chapter 5

Singers were a dime a dozen, the world over. A lot of people could sing, hold a note well, do the kind of vocal acrobatics that would give Mariah Carey in her prime a run for her money. Good singers were crammed in high school classrooms everywhere you went; some were even sitting behind Hewlett-Packard computers in tiny office cubicles. A lot of people could sing.

And that's kind of what made Zayn's producing work a little frustrating at times. People assumed that all one needed was a good singer and a decent beat and voila, you were well on your way to hit-avenue and riches. But what a lot of people didn't understand was that to truly break a musician out, pretty vocals on their own wouldn't cut it - there had to be that special edge behind those vocals... a certain fight, hunger, growl, passion, uniqueness... Those vocals needed to belong to an _artist_.

Zayn was well aware that he sounded like such a pretentious twat whenever he uttered those words out loud, "I want to work with artists." But it was true. He wanted to work with people with whom he could create the type of music that would touch people as they went about their hurried lives, make them really stop and listen. He wanted to make the kind of songs that forced you to feel your heartbreak in all its horrible entirety and sob it away until it was gone. But also the kind of songs that made you fall in love even when there was nobody in particular to fall in love with. And the kind of songs that didn't ask anything of you but to feel the music, the beat, the simplicity and truth of the words. Zayn wanted to make all those songs.

He was making those kinds of songs, actually. But without the right connections and the right up-and-coming artists, the only people who were hearing Zayn's songs were people who followed the underground music market. A niche market frequented by a select few who purposefully sought out unheard and unsigned musicians. A niche market that didn't really pay the bills for Zayn.

But things were looking up. Hopefully. He'd found someone special a month ago while trawling through Soundcloud. A Jamaican-English 19 year old kid with crazy vocals and an even crazier spitfire personality. Zayn had managed to contact him and they'd recorded something quick and breezy and fun a week later. The kid was a bit of a brat actually, spoiled by an indulgent single mother and very used to everybody telling him the sun shone out of his arse - but Zayn almost didn't care about all that. Damien had talent and drive and everybody who met him knew that he was going places, simply because he was going to will it that way.

For the past two days, a line or two of a potential song had been swimming around Zayn's head. A potential song for Damien, maybe. Zayn wasn't really sure where it was coming from - no actually, that was a lie... he had a very good idea where it was coming from but he didn't like it. He'd be sitting on the living room couch trying to prepare class lessons and then he'd remember what had happened on that very couch the other night and just like that, a line would come to him. If only it were that easy to write songs all the time.

This went on for another day before he finally decided to stop fighting it and just go with it. Maybe if he sat down and wrote the damn song, he'd finally stop thinking about _him_ during odd moments of the day. Late one evening, Zayn went to the tiny third bedroom masquerading as a studio. Harry was sleeping in his own bedroom, catching some much-needed snooze before his night shift at the bar, so Zayn had the benefit of peace and quiet while he did this. Zayn alternated between scribbling lyrics in his worn notebook and finding a low dark melody on his electronic keyboard.

_Eyes hold me still and pull me under_

_Clear-blue water I'm about to drown in_

_No truth to it, you're only a pretender_

_Your heart beats under mine and the sound of it_

_Matches my crazy mind_

 

_For a moment I let go_

_Can't swim but for a moment I let myself sink below_

_For one night, your hands and my hands and your lips and my lips_

_The dips of your body and your hold on my hips_

 

_I wonder what you would do_

_If you could see in my head_

_If you knew_

_That I think about everything_

_If you knew_

_How much I still want you_

_What would you do?_

 

An hour later, after recording bits and pieces, Zayn left it there for now. He played the song back. It was good. He tried to simmer down the excited hum building throughout his body that told him he was onto something very good. Zayn wasn't the type who lost objectivity when looking at his own work. Many times, especially early on when he'd first started out, he'd created songs that were pretty shite and he had been the first one to admit it.

This wasn't shite. But just to be double-sure, as soon as Harry woke up and Zayn heard him rummaging about in the kitchen, Zayn called him into the studio.

When Harry appeared in the doorway, hair disheveled and eyes still sleepy, he said grumpily, "What? I'm starving. I'm really looking forward to that left-over jollof Damien's mom made. I hope you haven't finished it."

Zayn shook his head and waved him over to the equipment. "Just - listen to this. Please?"

Harry came and sat down. "Okay."

Zayn played the song for him and the sound of Zayn's soft croon filled the room. He was a decent singer himself - people said he was very good actually, but he wasn't really interested in becoming a recording artist himself. He didn't have the temperament or need for the spotlight.

Harry's grumpiness soon faded. He closed his eyes as he listened, smile growing. "It's - it's really fucking good, Zayn. Beautiful actually? Haunting and sexy, like... Play it again."

Zayn did and he said, "I want to give it to Damien."

Harry scrunched his nose. "Really? Look, he's good and that 90s-like R'n'B pop song you guys did the other week was great. But he's a little - brash... dunno if he could carry this song off. Or even understand it. Maybe I'm underestimating him, though."

"He could do it. I think," Zayn said. But maybe Harry was right. Damien was very talented with a wild rasp to his alto that worked well on throwback songs about good sex and being young and all that. Good songs, but still, Damien hadn't really expressed any interest in trying out deeper material.

"Who is this song about? It doesn't feel like something random you just wrote out of the blue..."

Sometimes Zayn hated that Harry knew him so well. It meant that lying or hiding anything for very long was impossible. The very fact that Zayn had managed to go this long without telling Harry that he'd slept with Niall three days ago was a miracle.

"It's not for - anybody. I was watching a movie earlier about this dumb couple and the plot, um.. inspired me," Zayn said casually.

"You're such a shit liar. Tragically bad. Why do you even still try? Who is this song about?"

Crap. But then again, the song wasn't even about Niall. It was just a song that was lightly inspired by the other night, a night that just happened to have been spent with Niall. Zayn decided to come out with it. "Niall came over the other day after we went out. You were still at work. One thing led to another... But it wasn't, like, a thing. We just. It was just sex. He left before I woke up."

But the song wasn't about Niall.

"I knew it!" Harry yelled triumphantly.

"No, you didn't." Zayn insisted, rolling his eyes because honestly, the guy knew him very well but there was no way that even he would be able to predict Zayn's hookups when he wasn't even in the vicinity during the hookup in question.

"I did too! There were about a million takeaway boxes when I came home so I knew you had someone over. And because you were out with him that night, logic told me... But I didn't say anything because he wasn't there in the morning when you finally dragged your lazy in-a-terrible-mood arse out of bed. And look mate, you had - _still have_ \- marks all up and down your neck. Which would be why you're wearing that dumb polo-neck."

Instinctively, Zayn's hand came up to his neck and he looked away from his best friend.

"The song is about him?" Harry asked slowly. "So... did he ditch you in the morning or something? Make a run for it? What a dickhead."

"No, he didn't ditch me." Zayn didn't even know how to explain it but he tried. "I - I sort of told him... in a roundabout sort of way... I told him that I only wanted sex and that I wasn't looking for a date or morning cuddles or anything. So I guess I didn't really leave room for him to stay."

"Did he want to stay?"

Zayn shrugged. "He acted like he did. But then again, doesn't everybody act like that when they're looking to fuck? I dunno."

"But this song... you wanted him to stay. Why did you tell him you didn't?"

"Look. It's not about him. It's. Erm..." Zayn trailed off, his hand coming up to his neck again. Fuck. The song was about Niall. Not kinda, not sorta, not lightly inspired by. It was about Niall.

Zayn started again, "Because I thought I didn't want him to stay. I thought he was just some loud footballer out to get a quick fuck and I didn't want him to think I was bothered. But, like... now I can't stop thinking about his dumb face? I can't stop thinking about him and it's driving me mad."

Harry stood up and gestured for Zayn to do the same. "C'mon. Kitchen. We need to finish this talk but I really am starving. And I need to be at the bar in 30."

In the kitchen, Harry heated up some jollof rice for the two of them. It was only when they were standing with their backs against the cupboards, finally eating much to Harry's happiness, that Harry said, "Why don't you just call him? Or send him a text to test the waters. See if he's still interested. I'm sure he still is."

Zayn groaned. "Can't. Didn't get his number. He doesn't have mine. Never came up, we went from the stadium to the club then back here. And then he left." That very morning, Zayn had briefly considered calling Arsenal headquarters or Niall's niece's school to get some form of contact details for Niall, but he realized neither were a good idea. Arsenal would just ignore him, thinking him to be a crazy fan; and Mary-Anne's school would probably never call him in to teach again (at the very least).

Harry looked sympathetic as he munched on the last of his rice and chicken, but really what more could he say.

Anyway, it didn't matter, Zayn told himself. It had only been one day. A half-day even. The two of them had spent one crazy, sexy, maddening day where they'd argued like married lovers on the brink of divorce and fucked like it mattered. But it didn't matter. Niall probably wasn't thinking about it anymore at all, so why was Zayn? It was just one day.

================

Over the weeks that followed, Zayn threw himself into music; recording at all hours of the night with Damien. And Zayn finished the song, If You Knew. That song. But he never gave it to Damien or even played it for him. He didn't know what he wanted to do with it yet. He didn't even know if he wanted anyone else besides Harry to hear it.

Winter came and went, gliding into the more kind Spring. It meant that Zayn's warm bed became a little easier to leave in the mornings. Only a little though. During early Spring, a few times Zayn was called in to teach at the school where he'd met Niall. There seemed to be some belated nasty flu bug passing around and the regular teachers were dropping like flies.

Zayn ended up teaching one class for a full week and this was unusual because his teaching gigs usually only lasted a day or two at a time. The Year 4 class he was looking after was Mary-Anne's class so Zayn was admittedly curious about whether he might bump into Niall again. But he didn't see Niall. Which wasn't surprising if he thought about it - the day they'd met, Niall had been there as a special favour. It wasn't like he regularly hung around these parts. He was probably at practice or holed up in his fancy house somewhere with a bevy of bimbos at his disposal.

But then, just like that, he did see Niall. On the Friday, Zayn's last day of teaching the Year 4s, he followed the children out of the classroom after they had all packed up and there he was outside the gates, getting out of his Jeep.

Zayn's stomach seemed to jump somewhere up near his throat for a moment. He didn't know what to do, where to look - he'd already convinced himself that he wasn't going to be seeing Niall this week, or ever again, for that matter. He'd accepted it and he'd been fine with it. But now, this. This wasn't the reaction of someone who was fine. Zayn's heart was racing and not even in a good giddy way, it was in a nervous sickly dreading way. Zayn's hand came up to his hair as he tried to fix the strands that had escaped the short ponytail over the course of the day.

"You okay, sir? Why do you keep touching your face and your hair?" Mary-Anne asked him as they and a horde of other children walked closer to the gate. Niall was talking on the phone and hadn't noticed them yet.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thank you." Zayn said with a cough.

Niall finally put the phone down and he turned towards the crowd, eyes obviously trying to locate his niece. But those eyes found Zayn first and it was like Niall wasn't even surprised to see him. He just nodded in his direction, face open and friendly enough but not smiling for once.

Niall's face transformed into its usual sunny self when his niece threw an arm around his middle. He grinned down at her and said, "Hey, babe! Ya good? I was around the area so I told your Dad I'd come get you."

"Hello! Can we go for ice cream before we go home? Remember when I saw you on Tuesday, you promised we'd go the next time I saw you?" Mary-Anne rambled happily, handing him her school bag. "You said if I found out for you how many days -"

"Okay," Niall said really loudly and brightly, interrupting her for some reason. "We can go right now, babe. Is McDonald's okay? Could do with a McFlurry myself."

Zayn was hovering a foot or two away, wondering whether he should say hello after that less than exuberant greeting he'd received. Mary-Anne hopped into the car and when Niall moved to open his door too, Zayn stuttered out in a tight voice, "Hey. Niall. Um, could I - can I talk to you for a moment?"

Niall turned towards him, face showing surprise. "Uh, sure? What's up?"

He leaned against his car, his entire demeanor saying that he wanted Zayn to get on with it so he could be on his way.

The thing was, Zayn didn't even know what he wanted to say. He hadn't really thought that far. Then his conversation with Harry weeks and weeks ago came to mind and Zayn blurted out, "Your number. I don't have it."

"What?" Niall said, brows furrowing even more.

Shit. Zayn decided to go back a few steps. "How've you been, by the way? It's been ages, yeah? You alright?"

Niall just looked at him for a moment. "I've been good. Busy and all that." Niall didn't ask him how he was in return. But he did say, "You cut your hair."

Zayn had. Just around the sides. He resisted the urge to try and fix the fleeing strands from the top. "Do you like it?" As soon as he said it, Zayn felt like such an idiot. He was an idiot. Why would he even ask Niall that?? Because he was an idiot.

Niall nodded once. "Yeah. I do. Zayn - what's this about? Are we just doing awkward catch up here? What were you saying about my number?"

Oh, they were back there again. So much for taking a few steps back. But Zayn looked at him straight and said, "Okay. It's like. That night you came over. I don't think I went about it the right way. You probably don't even give a shit anymore but if you do. If you do, I was hoping I could call you sometime?" God. Why was Zayn such an idiot.

Niall pulled away from his car, taking a step closer to Zayn. The crowd of children was thinner at this point, most of them having left. "This is just like you. And I say that fully realising that I don't know you very well at all." Niall said idly. "But what I do know is that you don't know what the fuck you want. You say one thing and then do the complete opposite 15 seconds later. Today you want my number. The other day you couldn't get me out of your flat quick enough. You wanted to go to the club, then you were pissed that I brought you there, then you wanted to leave, then you wanted to stay." Niall laughed a little, shaking his head.

"Are people not allowed to change their minds about things?" Zayn asked.

"Course you can," Niall said with a nonchalant shrug. "As long as people don't involve other people. I spent one day with you. Just one fucking day. And it's like you were nuts enough to already get in my head and fuck it up in that short time. I don't need any more of the crazy."

"Fine," Zayn said. The rejection was mortifying. And he didn't take kindly to being called crazy. Time to go. "It's cool. I'm just gonna go, yeah? Yeah."

"I don't need any more of the crazy," Niall said again like Zayn hadn't even spoken. "But I guess I want it. Must be a sucker for punishment. Like I said, you're a little nuts. But I don't think I care right now."

"Okay..." Zayn said slowly, trying to take in what was happening here. He still didn't like his mental health being questioned but maybe he could raise that issue at another time.

"For ages, I couldn't stop thinking about that night. It was really fucking annoying." Niall's tone conveyed marginal frustration but his face was calm, contemplative. "Then I pretty much forgot about it. I did. But then Mary-Anne told me Mr Malik from the Career Day was teaching her class again. And there I was, hounding her to find out how many days you were going to be here. But I still told myself I wasn't going to come. And, well. Waddya know... Here I am."

"So... does that mean I can have your number?"

Niall laughed. "Yes. Yes, you absolute twat. You can definitely have it."

"Cool. I'll call you." Zayn beamed and held out his phone for Niall to input his phone number which Niall quickly did.

Niall shrugged and laughed again, opening his car door. "We'll see. Maybe you will, maybe you won't."

 


	6. Chapter 6

Cooking dinner together sounded a lot more domestic and cozy than it really was. What it actually entailed was a lot of arguing over salt-to-sauce ratios and whether mushrooms were delicious or whether they were slimy rubbery scum that should never make their way into any pot of chicken pasta.

 "No, wait. You can't pour all the water out when you drain pasta," Zayn insisted, taking a break from stirring a pan of saffron chicken to watch Niall over at the sink. "It'll get all dry. And it will stick together."

 "Will you relax..." Niall said. He rolled his eyes. "I'm going to pour the sauce right in so nothing is going to get dry. Been cooking since I was 6. I know what I'm doing. For the hundredth time." He laughed when Zayn continued to shake his head.

Niall walked over to the stove, pot in hand. As he poured creamy white sauce into the pot of steaming pasta, he said, "Let's get this show on the road. You almost done there with the chicken? I'm starving."

"Yeah. The plates are right in that cupboard by your legs. Can you get 3? We should save a plate for Harry."

Again, a lot more cozy than was the case. The only reason they were cooking at all was because they were stuck indoors in Zayn's flat that evening - they'd had plans to go out for a drink at a pub situated right round the corner from east Finchley tube station called The Old White Lion. But 10 minutes after Niall had arrived to pick Zayn up, it had started hailing cats and dogs outside.

And the only reason they'd been on their way to that pub was because Zayn had finally stopped being a pussy and he'd finally called Niall and asked to see him, a whole 3 days after their run-in at the primary school. That conversation had gone something like this:

(Phone ringing for almost twenty seconds before a breathless voice answered)

"Niall here. What can I do you for?" Loud music in the background faded to almost nothing.

"... Hey. It's Zayn. Uh. How are you? You alright?"

"Zayn?"

Oh God. "Yeah. Zayn. From, um, your niece's school."

Soft laughter. "I know who you are. I'm just surprised. It's been a few days. Figured you weren't going to call."

"No. Reckon I was always going to call," Zayn admitted. "It was just a matter of when would I stop talking myself out of it."

"Okay... I dunno if I'm meant to consider that a good thing," Niall said with a brief derisive snort. "That you had to talk yourself out of talking yourself out of it..."

Zayn was lying on his bed on his back and he focused on a jagged crack in the ceiling. "My best mate says I always try to find reasons why I can't have things I want."

"I'm a thing you want?" Asked in a stiller voice than Niall had been using before.

Zayn gulped. "Yeah," he said with a sigh after a moment. "I think you are."

"Okay.  _That_  I consider a good thing."

Zayn smiled to himself. "So... I was thinking maybe we could hang out tonight? Just chill somewhere. There's a really great pub I know. It's nice and low-key so we won't have to yell to hear each other or anything."

And, here they were. Cooking supper for themselves right in time for the Game of Thrones marathon that was on telly that evening. Niall had come straight to Zayn's from practice and he was visibly tired, sinking down onto the sofa with a happy sigh before digging into his plate of food.

This scene - Niall stuffing his face on Zayn's couch while Zayn really just wanted to kiss him - was very familiar. The food was good though – Niall was right, nothing dry or sticky about it. Niall didn’t follow Game of Thrones nearly as closely and obsessively as Zayn did, so it was pretty hilarious watching Niall’s eyes widen every few minutes – “I don’t know what the fuck is going on and who is who, but whatever’s going on, it’s fucking amazing.” And a few minutes later, “Why’s everyone so worried about winter? What’s wrong with winter??”

Niall kept flexing his neck and shifting positions on the couch, rolling his shoulders every few minutes.

“You alright?” Zayn asked, while they waited for the second to last episode to start.

Niall nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just quite sore for some reason.  Guess I didn’t stretch as much as I should’ve before and after practice.” He grimaced and stood up for a moment, stretching his arms way up above his head and revealing a sliver of a taut tummy as his blue jumper rode up.

“I –“ Zayn licked his llips. “I think I can help with that. I mean, if you want. Apparently I’m not too shabby with my hands.”

Niall froze mid-stretch, and then a quick joyous smile spread on his face as he looked down at Zayn. “Is there any scenario in this whole world where I would say no to that?” He sat back down eagerly.

“Okay, just sit, like, with your back next to me… Yeah, like that.” Zayn warmed his hands quickly by rubbing them together and then he went to work, rolling away the stiffness in Niall’s shoulders with nimble strong fingers.

“ _Fuck…”_ Niall immediately groaned, his head falling forward onto his chest. “Oh my God. Don’t ever stop.”

Zayn didn’t stop but he did move his way down Niall’s back, pressing a little more gently this time, kneading the skin. The sounds Niall was making were absolutely filthy. Zayn wondered if he knew what he sounded like. He sounded like… well, like he was being fucked within an inch of his life and loving every second of it. The unabashed moaning and the little breathy sighs. It was a turn on in the worst way because Zayn was only supposed to be massaging him and making him feel better, but the only thing he could think about was kissing Niall over and over until he felt drunk with it.

“Jesus… I feel like… butter… right now.” Niall said. “Does that even make sense? I just feel so good. Where did you learn to do that?”

Zayn shrugged. “Didn’t really learn. I just go by instinct, I suppose.  And it seems to work mostly. I’m glad it’s working.”

“It’s working. God, it’s working. You should’ve never showed me you can do this because now I’m going to be knocking on your door at all hours, needing a massage. You’re going to hate me. I'm gonna become the nuisance you wish you'd never come across.”

“Aren’t athletes supposed to have a whole team of trainers and masseuses? You shouldn’t be this sore and stiff. Can’t be good for you.” Zayn didn’t know why he was so concerned. But he was.

Niall laughed softly, the laughter seeming to tumble out of him in content relaxed waves. “We do have a team. But I want them all sacked right now. I want you. No, but seriously, I was in a rush today after practice so I didn’t really stretch as much as I should’ve – Do you mind if I lay down on my stomach? I just need another minute or so of those hands on my back and then I swear I’ll be good.”

“I charge by the minute so you’ve already racked up quite a bill,” Zayn joked. “Yeah, you can lie down.”

But it was ridiculous trying to both fit on the couch that way without lying on top of each other. As it was, Zayn was currently straddling Niall’s thighs precariously, trying not to get too close because then Niall would certainly feel his half-boner.

“This isn’t working,” Zayn said with a giggle after almost toppling off onto the floor while trying to reach for Niall’s upper shoulder. “C’mon. You can come lie down on my bed and I’ll finish you up.” So what if Zayn maybe had other intentions with that offer? He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help this ridiculous constant attraction he felt towards this person.

Niall didn’t need to be asked twice. He got up from the couch, groaning as he stretched again and yawned. Niall led the way; it would appear he hadn’t forgotten where Zayn’s bedroom was. In the room, Niall remarked with more surprise than Zayn felt was warranted, “It’s really clean this time. Not that fucking you on top of your entire wardrobe and shoe collection wasn’t sexy as hell. I’d do it again.”

“It’s usually clean!” Zayn protested. “That was a once off. I had no way of knowing I’d end up going home with someone that night.”

“Happy to hear you don’t make a habit of bringing people home,” Niall murmured. He plonked down face-first onto the bed like he belonged there and Zayn didn’t really mind that at all. Niall continued, “I mean, I’m all for people fucking who and when they please. But I’m just kinda happy to hear that _you_ specifically, weren’t expecting to pull that night. – I’m talking shit right now, aren’t I? I feel so nice and loopy and tired. In a nice way. Tell me to shut up.”

“No, I won’t.” Zayn laughed and went over to Niall on the bed. This time he could comfortably knead Niall’s body from the side without having to straddle him. Niall lifted his head a little to let out his millionth filthy moan of the night and as he did, something caught his eye. Zayn’s leather-bound notebook lying open across one of the pillows.

“What’s that? You keep a diary?” He didn’t ask in a _making-fun-of-you_ way, he just sounded interested.

It was a diary in a way, in that it was where Zayn expressed all the different things that went through his head during the day and all the dreams he didn't really dare voice out loud. But mostly it was a, “Song book. I write in the mornings when I wake up. Dunno... It’s when my mind is the clearest.”

“You write songs?” Niall sounded unnecessarily wowed. He settled his head back down onto the thick duvet. “Can I see one?”

“Um... Maybe. Another day,” Zayn settled on saying after a moment. But he knew that chances of him showing Niall his work were slim to none. Zayn had hardly ever showed that notebook to anybody, not even his ex. People hearing his songs when they were produced and finished was one thing – but them reading all his thoughts and crossed out bad phrasing and attempts to coherently convey complicated human emotions on mere paper, that was another thing entirely.

“I feel like… there’s a lot to you. A lot I don’t know, I mean. I like that… You’re interesting…” Niall said, speech slowing and getting softer. He was so cute and so so tired. All Zayn wanted to do was kiss him awake for a few hours. They’d last kissed months ago but it had been damn nice and Zayn really wanted to do it again.

It was no surprise when Niall passed out a few minutes later, mouth and body going completely slack. Zayn should’ve done that kissing thing earlier. That was what he should’ve done. But he didn’t pretend to himself that he minded seeing Niall well asleep in his bed; it kind of felt like it made up for the last time Niall had come over when he had snuck out probably right after they fucked.

Zayn pulled off Niall’s trainers and fetched a huge blanket from Harry’s room. Harry wasn’t back yet – he’d sent a text in the middle of Game of Thrones saying he’d gotten caught in the storm while at work and would stay with a friend who lived close by.

Back in his room, Zayn wrapped the blanket around Niall and put a pillow under his head, before getting under the blanket, too.

=======================

“I fell asleep,” was the first thing Niall said (sounding sheepish but not at all regretful) when Zayn stirred and woke up the next morning to find himself holding Niall loosely from behind. Spooning. _Go figure._

Zayn didn’t really function first thing in the morning. Or talk in any form. He could write and finish a song while the sun was only just warming up outside, but talking was a no go. So he just nodded and pressed his face into the soft warm space at the back of Niall’s neck. Zayn didn’t have work that Tuesday and he had no idea what Niall’s plans were. Did footballers train every day?

Zayn wasn’t quite sure when it happened but he apparently fell back asleep because next thing he knew he was being awoken by the smell of something delicious wafting through the air. Coffee. He opened one eye and spotted Niall carrying a tray, walking towards the bed, shirtless with only his pants on. Pleasing sight to see in the morning.

“Wake up, you bum,” Niall said loudly. “It’s almost noon. Made breakfast, hope you don’t mind. And I use the word ‘ _made’_ very liberally. It’s just cereal and coffee. Met your friend Harry but he’s off again. Said he's going to the farmer's market to buy goat's cheese. I decided not to really interrogate further on that. He’s nice, though. Gave me a really polite speech about making sure I treat you nicely. I think it was meant to sound tougher than it did.”

Zayn grunted in response and tried to close his eyes again. But Niall set the tray down on the bed and bent down to plant a small kiss on Zayn’s lips. “You’re cute,” Niall said as Zayn stirred and was suddenly very very awake. “But really c’mon, get up! The day is passing you by. Carpe diem and all that shit.”

Zayn hated morning people. But he had also learned long ago that fighting them was pointless. He sat up and sipped on his mug of coffee until he felt like something resembling a human. An hour later, he was showered and communicating using spoken word again.

He and Niall watched cartoons all afternoon and it was kind of the nicest day Zayn had spent in a long time. Zayn managed to sneak in a lot of that kissing he’d been wanting to do since last night. They made out for hours it seemed - on the couch, in the kitchen, against the living room wall at one point after they'd both gotten up to get a drink. Kissing Niall was like drowning, being pulled under again and again. Zayn almost feared it wasn't good for his heart.

He had no idea what this was and what they were doing, but for once he didn’t really mind.

========================

"I shouldn't miss you this much," Niall said a few weeks later over the phone. He was out of town, out of the country actually, at a training camp in Spain. Truth be told, Zayn missed him too. They'd spent a lot of time together over the past few weeks and now with Niall gone, Zayn wasn't really sure what to do with himself. He was bored and he missed that obnoxious laugh and those big hands way too much.

"You miss my ass. Specifically, you miss sticking your dick there," Zayn said.

"So vulgar," Niall laughed. "I do miss your ass but I miss your face and your complete unrelenting stubbornness about everything and your skinny little twig legs even more."

"Listen mate, your legs aren't exactly tree trunks."

"They're bigger than yours."

"Barely."

"Barely is still something."

"You're so immature."

Niall cackled into the phone. "So are you! God. I miss you. Seriously. Just wanna come back home now." He'd been gone for a week. Eight long days to be exact. "The lads are going out tonight with some locals. Think I might join them. This week has been physical torture. In a good way but God damn, I deserve a drink."

"You should go. Have fun. Don't drink and drive..." _And don't snog pretty Spanish people,_ Zayn wanted to add. But that felt too clingy and unnecessary. He and Niall weren't even an official thing. Not really. They were just... he still didn't know what to call it, actually. Chilling, maybe? They were just chilling.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later, Zayn. Write me lots of songs about my dick and these pretty blue eyes you love so much."

Zayn sighed loud. " _Honestly._ You tell a guy he has nice eyes _once_ in bed and he never shuts up about it."

"Actually, you didn't just tell me. You moaned it and then you came, shaking and shit. Power of the eyes."

"You're so immature."

"Miss you, too."

The next morning, Zayn was trawling the Dailymail website on his laptop while lounging in bed, reading about the latest escapades of Kylie Jenner and the TOWIE cast when a blurb along the side of the page caught his eye. " **Arsenal's Niall Horan and Louis Tomlinson's boozy night in Madrid** " Zayn was more than a little excited. He'd never before read about anyone he actually knew in person. He clicked on the link, prepared to laugh at drunken pictures of Niall.

The headline of the article went into more detail and it was something Zayn hadn't quite been expecting: " **Arsenal's Niall Horan and Louis Tomlinson party all night at Libertad nightclub and head home with 2/4 of Spanish girlband Fourth Melody"**

Oh. Zayn quickly scrolled down the page, not even bothering to take the words in but instead concentrating on scrutinizing the pictures. The pictures showed Niall and Louis inside one big black cab along with two gorgeous brunette females, all of them giggly and obviously plastered out of their minds.

Oh.

Zayn closed the tab and opened Facebook instead, pretending for a moment that he hadn't seen what he'd just seen. But he couldn't pretend for long. He was upset and maybe even a little angry, and the worst thing was that he didn't know if he had any right to be. He and Niall were just chilling, right? It wasn't a _thing._ Niall could go home with whoever he wanted because it wasn't like they were boyfriends or summat.

But still. Zayn did care and he hated that so much. He wanted so much to not care.

When Niall called later that day, Zayn didn't answer. Or any day after that.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!

Zayn knew that ignoring Niall’s texts and calls over the week that followed wasn’t exactly the most mature response. It wasn’t mature at all. At the end of the day, Niall didn’t owe him anything. It wasn’t like Niall had pledged his undying love one day and then snuck home with a fit Spanish chick with huge tits and pucker-ready lips the next day. Well - the second part had obviously happened, but the first, no.

It wasn’t Niall’s fault that Zayn had allowed him to creep under his skin so steadily and slowly that Zayn hadn’t even realized it at first. Zayn’s reaction when Niall had told him he was going away to training camp should’ve been a clue. Zayn’s heart had sunk, immediately, and in that moment, he’d already started missing Niall. Just like that.

Actually, scratch Zayn’s previous thought - it _was_ Niall’s fault, in fact. For being so unfailingly nice and so bloody hot and maddening all at once. It was Niall’s fault for waking Zayn up with scorching sweet little kisses along the chest after nights spent together. And it was his fault for insisting that they drive around London at some ungodly hour one night looking for haleem and bun kebabs just because Zayn had mentioned offhand that he was really craving his mum’s cooking. It was also his fault for asking Zayn a million questions a day about his childhood and his music and his uni years and his thoughts on every topic under the sun, like Niall wanted to know every last dull detail of Zayn’s existence since birth. Niall wasn’t meant to be this amazing - Zayn had signed up for a few dates and good sex with a silly brash footballer.

Zayn wasn’t overly self-deprecating or blind - he knew that Niall was into him and he knew that Niall was enjoying whatever it was the two of them had. But since that article in the Daily Mail, Zayn had been forced to consider the likely possibility that Niall was into other people, too.

So, yes, even though Zayn knew that he should probably pick up the phone and end things like the grown adult he claimed to be, he couldn’t. What was he supposed to say? “I went and did something really stupid. Went and liked you more than I should. And now since I obviously can’t handle seeing you with other people, I need to bail on this cool and great thing we have going” ?

He did the immature thing and ignored him.

==================

It stung a little when after a few days, Niall started ignoring him too. Or rather, Niall just stopped calling. Zayn tried to tell himself he was relieved. But relieved people don’t spend an entire weekend in a sulky funk after unexpectedly coming across a TV interview of the blonde Arsenal striker they used to shag, do they?

Zayn wrote pages and pages in his notebook over the weeks, filling it with everything he knew he should be saying out loud, even if just to get it all off his chest so he could move on. He threw himself into his one true love, his music. His lifelong babe. Zayn’s artist, Damien, began spending almost every night in Zayn’s studio and the two of them would record until the wee hours of the morning. It wasn’t perfect; they didn’t always see eye to eye. Zayn preferred simple musical arrangements and solid beats; he knew that the melody and lyrics of a song were what truly made a song timeless in the end. Not trendy synths and what-not.

Damien was more extravagant; he wanted louder drums, more bass and he could barely sing through one sentence without adding a ton of (brilliant but unnecessary) ad libs and vocal runs. He didn’t appear to be a believer of the saying _less is more_. But there was no denying Damien’s talent and that sure feeling Zayn felt in his bones that the two of them were on their way to creating something monumental.

“When can we get this music out there?” Damien asked one night while they were taking a smoke break on the pavement just outside the flat. “I’m ready to go. Ready to blow up already! I was born ready, man…” Damien wasn’t supposed to be smoking at all; he’d sworn to his mum that he would stop after she clocked him around the ear when she caught him puffing on a cig in her parked car at age 17. She was terrifying which was just one of the reasons why Zayn would never tell on Damien.

“Trust me, I’m ready, too.” Zayn said in response. He wanted this so bad, more than people probably knew. “We need to do this right. We’re both unknown, you and me. I know that will change but in order for it to happen, we can’t just enter the scene with some played-out goodish song that people have already heard in one form or another. It’s like, I need to find that _song_ , bro. You get me? That one song that makes people sit up when they hear it. And I know, it’s frustrating because it’s like we already have half a dozen songs that are almost that song. We’re getting there. Do you trust me?”

Damien shrugged after a moment. “Yeah, I guess. I trust that you’re a good producer. I wouldn’t be with you otherwise.”

“Okay. Then trust me that I’m working my ass off when we’re not in that studio, already sending these songs off for people to hear. The right people. We’re gonna do this,” Zayn said with conviction.

“I’m just impatient, I guess. Got this fire in my blood, bro. Need to get out there already and make that money. The whole world will know my name. There’s no way my life will work out any other way. All these lame asses going to uni that I grew up with are gonna wish they were me.” Damien actually began running in place and Zayn wondered where he got the energy after recording for hours. The perks of being 19, probably.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to make money,” Zayn said, laughing as Damien started doing some elaborate new dance craze across the pavement. “But there’s more to it, isn’t there? You wanna just make music, more than anything, surely..”

“Look, bro. Not really. I mean, if I had any sporting talent or whatever, I would do that. Or if I was born into some rich family, I’d go work for my parents and take over. Music just happens to be what I’m good at. It could be anything, I reckon. But right now, music is what will take me where I wanna get in life.”

Zayn didn’t understand that, to be honest. Music to him wasn’t just a thing he’d chanced upon and found he was good at. It was everything and he didn’t know how he would get through one day without having that creative outlet to express himself. But he wasn’t one to judge. To Damien, he said, “Whatever works for you, man. We’re all just trying to make it. Let’s head back inside and finish that verse, yeah? I have an idea for that part before the bridge.”

====================

Isar (Zayn’s TV remote hogging cousin) was over at Zayn’s and Harry’s one Sunday a few house before the Britain’s Got Talent finale, when he remarked, mouth full of crisps, “Whatever happened to that, um, Arsenal dude that always used to come around here? Zayn’s sugar daddy.”

Harry turned to Zayn with interested raised eyebrows as if to say, _Yes, Zayn, Do tell._

Even though Harry knew very well everything that went down.

Zayn rolled his eyes and said to his cousin, “Firstly, pass the remote. The finale hasn’t started yet and I want to catch the last few minutes of Empire. Give it here! Or I’ll tell your mum the real reason why you didn’t come home for her cousin’s 50th birthday last weekend. Secondly, he wasn’t my sugar daddy. Sugar daddy implies that he’s older than me and that he bought me tons of shit or summat. Neither is true.”

“The original question which you so awkwardly avoided still stands - where is he? Did the fire embers of your burning romance die out already?”

“Shut up,” Zayn said moodily.

“Zayn doesn’t like to talk about this. Much like he wouldn’t talk to Niall,” Harry interjected helpfully. “Which answers your question as to why he is no longer around. And Zayn acts like he doesn’t miss him.”

Zayn directed the coldest look he could muster at his best mate. It wasn't all that cold.

“Ah, the joys of being accustomed to being chased,” Isar said with a grin. “Zayn can just ignore fit rich men and they’ll still keep texting him 15 times a day. Back home, there was this guy named Tony who owned the record store near my house. The coolest guy you ever met but he turned into such a whiny insecure idiot when he decided to make the mistake of falling for this young one. It was painful to watch. Pretty sure Tony still wanks to the memory of Zayn’s 17 year old cherub face.”

“Shut up,” Zayn said again, utterly exasperated.

“Tony? You’ll have to fill me in one that one. Don’t think you’ve ever mentioned him.” Harry looked mildly petulant but Zayn would most definitely not be filling him in. What was in the past was best left in the past. Isar had a big mouth and Zayn had half a mind to call his mum for real. But unfortunately, Isar had plenty of things to blackmail him with too.

And Isar was wrong anyway - maybe Zayn was used to being pursued in the past but evidently he was losing his mojo or something because there was no pursuing at all being done by Niall currently. And it sucked. Zayn didn’t really want to admit it to himself for longer than a second but in an ideal world, Niall would have kept calling and he would’ve said he wanted to be with only Zayn and they would’ve become the most awesome couple in England.

Or something.

Zayn sighed and the room was quiet for a good two minutes. Harry and Isar went to the kitchen to make more popcorn and when they came back Harry was saying in excitement, “Hey, I have an idea. Let’s be lame and make a night of the BGT finale? Let’s have people over! We can tell them to bring their own drinks and we can buy snacks and stuff. It’ll be fun. You guys keen?”

No, Zayn was not. He wasn’t in the mood for company. But Isar was, so Zayn was outnumbered. He hated the two of them. People coming over meant that Zayn needed to be consciously social. And who wanted to do that on a Sunday evening? These two idiots, that’s who. Isar went into action mode, racing off to the shop for supplies to make finger-food. Harry called up and texted people for a good hour. And Zayn sat there on the couch pondering how bad living in a dirty crime-ridden hovel would really be if it meant he could live on his own.

A few hours later, just as friends and a few randoms began arriving, Harry said cryptically (and somewhat nervously, actually) to Zayn, “You love me, right? Like, no matter what?”

“Harry.” Zayn’s stomach sank as he got a really really bad feeling. “What the fuck did you do?”

Zayn found out a few minutes later when Harry opened the door to more guests. _The fuck he did_ was invite Niall. Crap. Zayn stood up from where he’d been sitting as soon as Niall came into view in the living room.

“Zayn? Are you okay? What happened?” Niall’s eyes scanned him quickly. Niall seemed stressed, his breathing heavy and his brows furrowed in apparent confusion. His hair was uncharacteristically untidy and he was wearing two different sneakers on his feet.

What the hell was going on? “What?” Zayn asked dumbly.

“I said, are you okay? What’s wrong? Why did Harry say something was wrong with you and I needed to get over here immediately? I was sleeping and I woke up to texts saying - Zayn, what the fuck is going on here?” Niall was beginning to look angry.

Everybody in the living room was staring at them and Zayn wanted to disappear. Harry was suddenly very preoccupied filling bowls with crisps on the coffee table, making eye contact with no one. Zayn had no idea what was happening but he had an inkling that it was nothing good. Isar cleared his throat from the armchair he was in and raised a small hand. He said, “Look, it was my idea. Harry had to do the texting because I don’t really know Niall. But it was my idea. Harry was just going to invite him here tonight and that’s it but I thought that maybe we needed to give him a really good reason to come… So…”

“So you told me something was terribly wrong and you made me nearly get into a zillion car accidents trying to get over here,” Niall finished coldly. He looked at Zayn for a long moment and Zayn wanted to cower under that gaze even though he had done nothing wrong.

“This happened different in my head. I’m sorry, Niall.” Harry finally spoke up, sounding appropriately ashamed. “In hindsight, this was a bad idea. We didn’t mean for this to play out here in front of everyone."

"And how exactly did you mean for it to play out?" Zayn asked slowly.

"I sent that text hours ago and I thought Niall would get over here and sort everything out, alone, before everybody arrived. Didn’t count on him being asleep. But then, Niall, your text 20 minutes ago saying you were on your way… I didn’t know how to back out of this. I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, Zayn is definitely going to kill me. He knew nothing about this.”

Niall just sighed. He looked utterly exhausted. “I see the crazy runs deep in this friendship circle. This is really fucked up. I don’t even - I’m just going to go. I don’t know why you wanted to bring me over here, what funny prank you thought you were pulling. Because it’s not funny at all. I thought he was in trouble or something - I’m leaving..” He turned to go, shaking his head. His footsteps towards the door seemed deafening in the awkward silence of the room.

Zayn promptly followed him out into the passageway, shutting the door behind him. There was no way Niall couldn’t hear Zayn but he still kept walking down the passage, not even looking back.

“Niall - I promise you I didn’t know about any of this.” Zayn called out.

Niall stopped walking but he still didn’t turn around. “I know… I believe you. The look on your face said it all. This is all so fucking _dumb_. I shouldn’t be here.” He resumed walking. Zayn followed again. He didn’t know what he was looking for but he didn’t want Niall to be mad anymore. He almost shrank back in surprise when Niall whirled around to face him suddenly, when they were midway down the stairs. Niall looked furious.

“I really regret asking you out that day, you know that?” Niall practically roared. “And that is not like me. I don’t hold grudges and I don’t regret things just because they don’t work out. But you. That I regret.”

“Why? Was the sex that bad?” Zayn was just trying to lighten the mood and make Niall laugh like he used to but it was clearly the wrong move. And Zayn was also trying to ignore the sting that had formed in his throat the second Niall had called him a regret.

Niall’s eyes blazed even more and 10 seconds ago Zayn wouldn’t have thought that possible. “This is funny to you? This is a joke?”

Zayn shook his head. This whole situation was so far from funny. “No. Niall. I’m just. I’m sorry about what Is and Harry did. They are such fuckheads and I don’t know what they were thinking. But I didn’t know anything about this little plan of theirs so I don’t understand why you’re so pissed off with me.”

“You don’t understand why I’m pissed at you…” Niall repeated incredulously. “You think I’m only mad because of what your friends did?” He actually started laughing but there was nothing amused or happy about that laughter. Zayn shrugged helplessly. Niall turned on his heel again, towards the building exit.

“Just wait.” Zayn grabbed hold of his arm to keep him there. All the frustration, jealousy and uncertainty he’d felt when he’d first seen that article suddenly rose up out of nowhere, ugly and not to be ignored any longer. Zayn wanted to be heard too, even if it was weeks too late. He asked sourly, "Why are you mad, Niall? I would really like to know. Did things not work out with Little Miss Girlband?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your nightclub funtime with those Spanish girls the other month. You went home with one, yeah? Did you enjoy yourself?” Zayn folded his arms and looked steadily at Niall. He tried so much to make his voice sound like he didn’t care.

“What? Spanish girls… You - you’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” Niall’s voice was hushed, low, shocked even.

That just made Zayn feel even worse. “I know it’s none of my business. We weren’t dating, right? I’m the idiot for liking you and actually hoping you wouldn’t want to be with anyone else, right?”

Niall held up a hand, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “Zayn… How were we not dating?” He sank down on the stairs.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Zayn replied immediately and sarcastically, “Maybe because you went off and fucked some bimbos the second I was out of sight?”

“But I didn’t!” Niall yelled. “Where did you even - how do you even know we met up with Carlita and Lola? Why didn’t you say anything? You’re so… _Fucking hell_.”

“I read the Daily Mail sometimes,” Zayn mumbled, sitting down too. He was finally catching on that maybe things weren’t the way he’d thought.

“You read the - of course you do.” Niall laughed softly and rubbed his eyes.

“It was right there in black and white!” Zayn felt the need to defend himself. “It said you went home with one of them. And there were all these pictures of the four of you. Pissed out of your minds and heading home in one cab. Back to your hotel presumably.”

“I didn’t go home with anyone, you idiot! We were all in one cab because we were going to one last nightclub on the other side of the city. We were pissed drunk and just having fun. Ever heard of that?” Niall turned to face Zayn then, face so serious. “You do realize people can be friends, nothing more? I’ve known Lola for years. Her brother plays for Real Madrid and we all hang out in the same circles from time to time. I didn’t fuck her. Or anybody else.”

“I had no way of knowing all that…” Zayn said sheepishly.

“You’re right, you didn’t. But God, Zayn. You should’ve just asked me. I would have explained it to you. But instead you ignored me and stopped talking to me. Over absolutely nothing.”

“You ignored me, too. You didn’t exactly fight very hard to explain.”

“Because I had no idea what was wrong! I didn’t know you frequent the bloody Daily Mail. I thought you were just being _Zayn_ -“ he waved his hand vaguely towards Zayn’s torso. “I thought you were just doing what you do. Which is, suddenly deciding you’re over something with no warning or reason.”

There were quiet for a few moments. Then Niall grumbled, “You are so frustrating.” And then he said more quietly, “You frustrate me. Probably because I like you so much.” He bit his lip and shook his head, gaze angled towards the floor.

Zayn’s heart warmed and he looked towards his feet too. “I’m sorry. I feel really stupid right now. I should’ve asked you. I didn’t really think I had the right to.”

“Well, you do.”

Zayn nodded. “Okay. Now I know. Will you stay? They’re all watching the BGT final in there.”

“Um. No, I'm gonna have to pass. Not really in the mood."

Oh. Zayn nodded, uncertainty immediately settling in his chest. “Alright. That’s cool. Um… can I call you in a few days?”

“Are you really set on watching that final? I don’t really feel like socializing right now but maybe you and me could go back to mine? It’s quite a distance but we should probably talk some more. Or just hang out.”

Zayn had actually never been to Niall’s. Which was another reason why he’d been so sure that Niall just saw him as a quick fun fling. Now he stood up from the stairs and said, “Let me go tell Harry I’m leaving. Not that he deserves the courtesy right now. But I need my jacket anyway. Talking and hanging out with you is exactly what I want to be doing.”

As Zayn was walking back towards his flat, Niall said to him, “Zayn?”

“Yeah?”

Niall stood up from the steps and caught up to Zayn a few feet away. He brought their lips together for a few moments. Zayn had missed kissing him a lot.

Niall said after a beat, “We’re together. Dating, I should say. Just so we’re clear.”

As clear as a beautiful summer day.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii

Niall’s house was a sprawling white Victorian four-bedroom two-storey in Hertfordshire and Zayn wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting exactly, but not this. Maybe he’d been expecting a messy randomly-decorated bachelor pad with beer cans strewn everywhere from a party 3 weeks ago and a fridge filled with nothing but sports drinks and protein supplements. What Zayn was actually met with was a neat house filled with tasteful homey furniture; mantels and shiny display cabinets filled with trophies and dozens of photographs; a huge kitchen with gadgets Zayn didn’t even know the names of. The thick lush light blue carpet under Zayn’s socked-feet was immaculate and clean to the extent that Zayn wondered if it was new. Most carpets owned by 20-something year olds had a coffee stain or mud that had lingered on people’s shoes as they came in from outside, _at the very least._

But, actually… now that Zayn thought about it, he realised that he should’ve guessed Niall was Mr Neat. Niall’s insistence on taking a broom to Zayn’s kitchen floor after the few times they’d cooked dinner together should’ve been a clue.

Right now the two of them were in the kitchen, Zayn seated on the countertop of the dark soapstone kitchen island while Niall bustled about making them tea. It had only been an hour since they’d gotten over their misunderstanding and made up back at Zayn’s flat, so there was still the smallest undercurrent of tension between them. Small but definitely there. It was in the way they hadn’t quite touched yet except for a tiny kiss or two, and it was in the way Niall was a little quieter than usual.

“Here,” Niall said softly, handing Zayn a steaming mug a few minutes later. Niall hopped up onto the counter too and they sipped in silence for some moments, side by side.

“You’re mad at me still….” Zayn said eventually. It wasn’t even a question. It was just something he was realizing the more they sat in silence.

But Niall shook his head immediately. “I’m not. I swear, I’m not… It’s just - okay, do you want me to be honest with you?”

“Of course. Always.” Even though Zayn wasn’t entirely sure he was going to like whatever Niall was about to say.

Niall sat down his mug and turned to Zayn, tapping their dangling feet together. He leaned towards Zayn just enough to give him the briefest kiss on the lips before saying, “It’s just - I feel like I need to be careful around you? And I hate feeling like that. But I feel like I can’t just, uh… let go. I dunno if that makes sense. I've already gotten a taste of what it would be like if you up and decided you don't wanna do this anymore... I don't think I was prepared for it to affect me... that much. And, okay, I know that was all a misunderstanding. But - I’d kinda like to never feel like that again.” He shrugged and it was probably meant to appear nonchalant.

“But… that had nothing to do with me not wanting to do this anymore,” Zayn began. His heart had started beating terribly fast as he listened to Niall speak. Niall was basically shutting him out and what made it worse was the fact that Zayn understood completely. He knew the panic of discovering that this guy next to him had the power to hurt him - that realization was what had made Zayn bolt the minute he’d read that dumb article in the Daily Mail.

Zayn tried to explain himself, forcing himself to look Niall dead in the eye, “In fact, it was the complete opposite. I stopped talking to you because I thought I wanted this too much and you didn’t. And I’m sorry. We’re not a bunch of 15 year olds. I should’ve come to you like an adult instead of just ignoring all your texts. I won’t do that again. You don’t have to be careful around me or like, hold back…” “

I know,” Niall said, nodding. His face was still sombre but his eyes looked a little happier now. “Logically I know all that. I guess I’m just not used to this. But like I said earlier, I like you. And I like being with you. And I really want to keep doing that.”

“So keep doing it.”

“I plan to.” He winked and jumped off the counter to his feet. He came closer to Zayn, standing in between Zayn’s hanging legs and resting his hands on Zayn’s thighs. “I’m ridiculously glad you’re here right now.”

“Yeah?” Zayn tried not to smile too hard but it didn’t really work.

“Yeah.” Niall tapped Zayn on the tummy after a pause. “You want anything to eat? I make a mean sandwich. Don’t think you’ve ever had the pleasure of eating one of my smoked salmon and cucumber badboys.”

“Smoked salmon sandwich? Well, aren’t we fancy?” Zayn teased.

“Oi. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it!”

Zayn laughed at Niall’s pursed pretend-sulk mouth. His pretty mouth. “I’m not knocking it. I want your posh salmon sandwich. Just… c’mere first.”

“I’m already here, babe.”

 _Babe._ That was a new one. Zayn didn’t entirely dislike it. He slid down to his feet until they were facing each other. “No, I just mean. _Come here_. Like this…” Zayn clasped Niall around the back and nudged him closer. He kissed him, softly at first but more firmly eventually as Niall kind of just melted against him and…let go. Kissing Niall Horan was definitely one of Zayn’s top 5 things to do in the world before you die. Zayn highly recommended it. It was that one thing that drove all his senses insane, all at once - the feeling of Niall’s big hands gripping Zayn low on the back, the scent of Niall's apple shampoo and woody aftershave, the taste of his tongue, his rapidly-flushing face which Zayn snuck a glance at when he opened his eyes once in a while. They kissed until they couldn’t breathe.

The salmon sandwiches were delicious, Zayn admitted a little while later when they were eating in Niall’s study. Well, it was officially a study - that was what the realtor had called it when she sold this house to Niall two years ago. Niall liked to call it a chill room. It had two soft plush couches. Bookshelves on both sides were filled with movies and series DVDs (and not an actual book in sight). And most importantly, Niall’s prized Oracle Delphi MK VI Vinyl Record Player was in that room. It was the coolest thing Zayn had ever seen in anyone’s house and he was too awed to even remember to be jealous. Niall had some really good vinyls too - John Lennon’s Milk and Honey, The Beatles’ White Album and to Zayn’s amazement, some stellar Motown classics.

“You go in this trance…” Niall said, watching Zayn with a small beautiful smile as Diana Ross sang about coming out and wanting the world to know.

“Hmm… what?”

“When you listen to music, I’ve noticed that about you… You go into a trance, but like, in a good way. Not in like a stoner way or anything,” Niall explained. He polished off the last bite of his sandwich. “You just go into your own little world but you look happy while you’re doing it.”

“My Dad says the same.” Zayn laughed softly. “Since I was little in fact. I dunno, it’s like… when you’re listening to music, everything feels alright, y’know? Even though sometimes it isn’t alright. But when I’m listening to something really good, it is.” It always occurred to Zayn how sad it was that most young people didn’t know how much they were being robbed when it came to music quality. Squeezed tinny mp3s bought on iTunes were no match for the beautiful clear pitch and timbre of vinyl. MP3s would never fill a room like this no matter how high you put the volume. It was absolutely criminal that most people weren’t hearing music the way it was meant to be heard.

“There ya go… disappearing into that trance again.” Niall chuckled and sidled up close to him on the sofa. “I don’t mind though. It means I get to stare and watch you like a creep without feeling like I have to stop and play it cool.”

“I already know you’re a creep. You never have to pretend.”

“I thought I hid it so well.” Niall grinned and snuck in a kiss. And with that, Zayn disappeared into another trance except this time he wasn't disappearing alone. Niall pulled back a minute later and remarked candidly, "That wasn't as gross as it should've been. Salmon-breath kiss."

Zayn laughed but took two quick gulps from the can of Sprite he'd brought from the kitchen, just to be on the safe side. Niall did the same.

"Can I ask you something..." Zayn started. As soon as he said the words, Zayn wanted to back out and say never mind. But Niall was already looking at him with interest and nodding. So Zayn went ahead and asked him. Kinda, sorta. "Um... Like, it's cool, it's not a big deal. At all. I'm just curious. Why have I never been here before? You've been to my flat so many times but you've never invited me here. I thought, maybe, you were like hiding a wife and kid in here or summat." Zayn was only half-joking about that last part. He watched Niall's eyes as he waited for an answer.

But Niall merely looked surprised. "Oh.. Is that what you thought? - Didn't I mention that Greg and his wife and my niece were staying with me for a couple of months?"

No, he most definitely had not mentioned it. "No, you definitely did not." Zayn looked at him doubtfully.

"Well, they did. They had a mold issue in their bathroom that spread to Mary-Anne's room so they stayed with me while they got it sorted out. It was so rank, green stuff all over the walls. And my niece started to get sick in that house. I thought I told you - anyway, I didn't really think you would want to come over here and run into one of your students, not to mention my nosey big brother..." Niall stopped his rambling and his gaze flickered across Zayn's face. "Wait, did you really think I was hiding something?"

Zayn shrugged. "I dunno, maybe. Not really." What he'd thought was that Niall was ashamed of him or something. He'd thought that Niall was happy to fuck Zayn but not overly eager to let Zayn into his personal space, his home.

"I thought I told you about my brother's house... I swear," Niall said earnestly. "But they've fixed up their house now. I might miss the kid a little but mostly I'm happy to have my house back. My brother is a slob. And he still thinks I'm 11 and he can push me around and tell me what to do." In that moment, Niall sounded a bit like a despondent 11 year old, actually. It was pretty cute. But Zayn could easily empathize - Doniya still treated him like a little nuisance their parents had brought home from the hospital one day just to make her life miserable.

"You didn't tell me," Zayn reiterated again, "But it's okay. I get it. I just wasn't sure of your reasons before. But now I know... Is your brother really that bad? He sounds like a bit of a tosser."

Niall shook his head. "Nah, he's okay. Just a normal annoying big brother, I guess. In his mind, he's doing all that to keep me 'grounded' so I don't get too big for my boots. Maybe it's working." He stretched out, yawning, before settling back along the couch, this time with his head in Zayn's lap. Zayn liked this position and for the weirdest briefest moment he could picture a future with more moments like this - stunning timeless music streaming out in clear waves from a record player, Zayn stroking someone's head in his lap, a dog or two resting on the floor nearby them.

"Monday tomorrow." Niall yawned mid-talk before continuing, "The weekly grind begins again. I have to get to practice disgustingly early. You got work tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I have a thing in the morning. I’ve hired out a studio in Nottingham for my artist to record this song we’ve been working on for ages. I’m really excited.” Zayn was beyond excited. He really felt like this song was the one. He’d never worked so hard on something in his entire life and that by itself had to count for something.

"C'mon, then. We should get to bed. You need like 13 hours of sleep before anybody can force you awake. We've already missed your bedtime, then." Niall stood up and pulled Zayn to his feet, managing to sneak in a quick bum squeeze, too. Inside Niall's navy and white themed bedroom and after Zayn had taken off his shoes and pants but kept his boxers on, he almost moaned as he slipped inbetween the sheets. The bedding had to be made from silk or some shit. He'd never felt anything so soft in his life. Had Niall been slumming it every night he spent over at Zayn's?

Niall crawled into bed next to him, completely stark naked. He mouthed at Zayn's exposed neck and murmured, "My head is telling me to go to sleep so I can be somewhat decent during practice tomorrow. But my _dick_... my dick is reminding me I've got the sexiest person in my bed right now. My dick really really wants to fuck you."

Zayn licked his lips, slowly and on purpose, because Niall was watching him. Truth be told, it had been way too long since he and Niall had fucked, and Zayn wanted it bad. He'd been thinking that they could make up for lost time in the morning - Zayn loved morning sex - but now would work, too. "Well. Since we're talking about what dicks want, mine would really like to be touched right now."

Niall obliged, slipping a hand down between them and underneath Zayn's briefs to grip and stroke Zayn's awakening cock. Pretty soon, Zayn was practically humping Niall's hand, making desperately filthy whiny noises as Niall brought him too close to the brink again and again. Zayn knew he was in danger of cumming just from this if he wasn't careful. When Zayn's brain stopped stuttering long enough for him to concentrate a bit, he sat up and pushed Niall onto his back with one hand to his chest. Then Zayn managed to discard the rest of his clothes and while he did, he promised in a gutteral deep voice that sent a thick shot of blood straight to Niall's dick, "I'm going to suck your cock. I want to suck you until you're all I can taste. And then you're going to fuck my brains out. Yeah?"

"Fuck. Yeah. _Yes_ ," Niall hissed and his hips bucked upwards as Zayn took him into his mouth. Zayn worked around the tip at first, tongue swirling and licking all over. He concentrated on the sound of Niall's heavy breathing and the taste of him. He tasted good and Zayn took him deeper and deeper into his mouth until Niall hit the back of his throat.

Niall let out a long deep groan that sounded almost painful, hands fisting the sheets of the bed. He thrusted into Zayn's warm mouth, slowly at first, obviously trying to control his movements. But soon enough, his movements were wild and fast; and there was nothing controlled about the way Niall was fucking Zayn's mouth.

"Zayn... Babe. So good," Niall kept moaning over and over. Without warning, he suddenly pulled his dick away, pupils wide and blown, but not before smacking it on Zayn's tongue a few times and cursing. He pushed Zayn face-first onto the bed and haphazardly spread Zayn's legs. And Zayn loved the roughness of it. He loved that Niall was the sweetest funniest guy normally but that in bed it got a little rough sometimes. It was never too much, it was just what Zayn liked.

Niall went to work getting Zayn ready and opening him up, something that was necessary because it had been a while. Niall's fingers were thick, sturdy, long; and those fingers knew exactly what to do and how to do it. Zayn was pretty sure that many a person had come from those fingers alone. This felt almost as good as Zayn remembered Niall's cock feeling. "Fuck. Fuck me... you fucking fucker," Zayn grumbled when the delicious torture was too much to bear and he was dizzy with how bad he wanted to be fucked. A condom was produced from somewhere and right in that position with Zayn's face buried into the bed where he could scream out as much as he wanted without making too much noise, Niall slid inside him from behind. And Zayn thought, _Oh fuck. Finally._ He wanted to weep with how much he loved this.

Niall bent down and kissed Zayn softly on the shoulder, and for some reason the contrast between this and the way he was fucking hard into Zayn with nothing even close to gentleness was unbelievably hot.

"Did you miss this, Zayn?" Niall asked silkily, voice cocky and steady but hands trembling around Zayn's hips as they gripped him tighter.

"Maybe. Not really," Zayn said, just to knock him down a peg for a second. But the force of the thrust Niall forced into him a moment later left him breathless and gasping and right on the verge of falling apart. He couldn't pretend he didn't want this. "Yes. _Shit._ Yes, I missed this. I missed you."

"Missed you too..." And with one last bucking of his hips, Niall was coming and bringing Zayn right along with him.

It hit Zayn before he dozed off to sleep that he was _so_ fucked, in more ways than one. And maybe it wasn't a bad thing.


	9. Chapter 9

"I need a massage. I'm aching all over and I can barely move. Take pity on the weak. Please. Come over. I'll come get you..."

Zayn raised an eyebrow while he listened, even as he began deciding which jacket he would take with him when Niall came. He was lying in bed on a Wednesday evening after a long day at the studio with Damien and he'd been planning on going to bed. But plans changed. Still, he said to Niall on the phone, "Is that all I'm good for? Free massages? Go bother whoever Arsenal pays absurd amounts of money to for training and massages and whatnot."

"I need those magic Malik fingers," Niall said wheedlingly. Zayn imagined that he was lying in bed, too, hand probably up his shirt scratching idly at his stomach. "And, those trainers at Arsenal don't kiss everything better afterwards. There's literally no comparison."

"I'm tired. Can barely keep my eyes open." The two of them had seeing each other for a while now and Zayn half wondered why he still bothered playing like Niall needed to convince him to come over. They both knew, as soon as Niall had called, that they were going to fall asleep together that night.

"I'm lying, actually," Niall admitted. "I don't need a massage. Francisco wrung out my muscles already today. He was very thorough. I just want to see you. Haven't seen you in like, two days."

Zayn smiled despite himself. "I want to see you, too. But don't expect riveting conversation or whatever. I'm going to fall asleep on you, I'm giving you prior warning." He began attempting to gather the energy to get out of bed and change into something more decent. Niall probably wouldn't care about holey sweatpants, but still.

"Why are you so tired today anyway? You didn't have a teaching thing, did you?"

"No. It's summer, bright spark." Zayn snorted because trust a world-renowned footballer to not keep up with issues of mere mortals like seasons and school terms. "But I was in studio all day with Damien finally finishing up that song."

 _"Bring It Back_?"

Zayn had told Niall a few things about the song but he was a little surprised that Niall remembered the title. "Yeah, the one and only. We've been working on it for weeks. I dunno, I feel like it shouldn't be taking this long to mesh right. And it shouldn't be this... draining." Zayn said that last part quietly. He hadn't admitted that to anyone just yet - not himself, not Harry. In the back of his mind and late at night when he had nothing but his thoughts to occupy him, it bothered him that making music with Damien didn't feel fun anymore. Just tiring.

"Maybe I'm the one who needs to give you a massage tonight," Niall remarked sympathetically. "What's draining about it? Long studio hours?"

"No, I love being in the studio. But Damien's entourage is exhausting. He's got his mates and his mum all in there giving me their two cents and he has a million opinions too about what I should be doing even though he's just a kid, really, who has no clue. I mean, I appreciate some input but not to the extent that it takes us a whole day just to get a verse finished." Zayn exhaled when he was done talking. Getting all of that out felt good, actually. Everything had been weighing on him these past few weeks and stressing him out little by little.

"Kick them out. His whole entourage. You know what you're doing, don't let them make you second-guess your decisions," Niall said firmly. "Next time they're there, tell them to fuck off. Or better yet, tell Damien not to bring them in the first place."

Yeah, okay, but - "His mum. I can't kick her out. Not only because she's terrifying." Actually, that was the reason.

"Yeah, you can. Babe, you can. Tell her that you both want the same thing - to see her son succeeding. And that she needs to trust you to do that. And if she doesn't trust you, they can go find another producer."

"Sounds so simple when you put it like that. Maybe it is..." Zayn mulled it over. "It is, actually. You're right. I don't know why I'm letting an old lady run my studio."

They were silent for a moment and then Niall said, "Zayn. Hey, I know I said I would drive over and get you..."

Zayn really really didn't want Niall to cancel. He said casually, "You want a rain-check?"

"What? No. But is it okay if I just stay at yours? I don't really feel like going there and driving back here."

Zayn relaxed again. "Sure. Especially if it means I don't have to move for the rest of the night." Zayn decided he'd stay in his holey sweatpants and let Harry get the door when Niall arrived. Lazy evening sorted. He actually ended up falling asleep waiting for Niall and was awoken a while later when arms were being wrapped around his torso from behind and warm lips were being pressed to his shoulder.

"Nghh?" Zayn grunted sleepily as he opened his eyes and tried to turn over to get a look at him.

"Hi. Go back to sleep," Niall whispered. He got up and switched the light off before crawling back into bed. Zayn didn't need to be told twice.

The next morning when they were downing coffee and cornflakes in the kitchen, Niall was talking about how he and a few of his teammates had been talking about investing their money in the restaurant business. Something rustic, a steakhouse maybe, in the heart of London. Zayn thought it was a good idea and he also thought how nice it must be to have enough money lying around to just open a whole fucking restaurant if you wanted.

"Speaking of teammates. I have a late evening practice today. Just a short one. But maybe you... Would you want to come?"

"To practice with you?" Zayn didn't mean to repeat that like an idiot, but he was just surprised. Niall had never asked him to come to practice before and Zayn wasn't even sure that he would be allowed there.

"Yeah. I mean, just to stop by and meet the boys. If you want. No biggie. But I'd like you to meet some of my friends. Properly, this time. You already met a few at that club the first night but that was a bit of disaster, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, kinda," Zayn admitted. Did he want to meet Niall's friends and have them all scrutinizing him again like they'd done at the club? Well, the prospect wasn't exactly thrilling. But if those people were important to Niall, Zayn was willing to give it a shot. "Okay, I'll come."

Niall looked so pleased, it was a little ridiculous. "Cool. They're pretty strict about security and stuff, so just text Sophia all your details. She'll get it sorted. Best PA in the business... I'm excited you're coming."

Zayn could only hope that he wouldn't regret this.

==========

"They're going to hate me. And I'm going to hate them. It's going to be one big lovely hate-fest," Zayn grumbled to Harry later that afternoon. Zayn was standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom trying to get his hair to cooperate while Harry was lying across the bed flicking through a magazine.

"At least everyone will be on the same page?" Harry offered brightly.

"I guess. I hope Niall doesn't expect me to be a social butterfly and flutter around and make clever small talk with dozens of people."

"I'd say he knows you pretty well by now and he won't be expecting you to be anything other than yourself. Will you chill out? Why are you so nervous?"

That was a good question. "I dunno. I just don't want to make him regret asking me to come. I don't want things to be uncomfortable. Or, like, everyone there wondering what the fuck he's doing with someone like me."

Harry put down the magazine. "Someone like you? You mean someone smart and strangely hilarious sometimes in that dorky way of yours? And word on the street is you're quite fit. If they have two brain cells to rub together between the lot of them, they'll be thinking he's very lucky."

"So true. I'm pretty amazing. You're all blessed to know me." Zayn laughed and ducked when Harry threw a pillow at him. "I just hate meeting new people."

"It'll be fine. You always worry about stuff and they never turn out as bad as you thought. How about today you waiver all the worrying and instead tell me what I should wear for my date tonight."

"Why would I do that? When you'll just ignore my advice and end up in black jeans tight enough to fit a toddler and some flowery shirt you won't bother to button," Zayn said drily.

"So true. But I like to make you feel like your opinion matters. It's what best mates do." Harry jumped off the bed and went over to Zayn's closet. "Why do you keep moving your rings, though? I want to borrow a few. That silver one with the square stone, for starters."

The nerve, honestly. "I keep moving them because you never ever return them!"

===========

Evening practice at Arsenal Training Center in Hertfordshire was a blur of sweaty sexy men, three coaches yelling their throats hoarse and a bunch of exercise drills up and down the field that made Zayn's muscles ache from just watching. A few other people were sitting in the stands with him, including Sophia and weirdly enough, some boy band member who looked ecstatic to be there. Sophia was very sweet, whispering some harmless gossip about the different players and explaining who was who. Apparently a player named Matt was going to propose to his girlfriend that night and had asked Sophia with help booking the restaurant. And another player named Willie (who Zayn agreed was looking a little forlorn after Sophia pointed it out) was currently looking for an apartment after his boyfriend had kicked him out of their penthouse for cheating with some German escort.

"So, things are going good between you and Niall, huh?"

"Yeah, I'd say so," Zayn said tentatively. No German escorts lurking around that Zayn knew of.

"I'm glad." Sophia looked towards the field where Niall and his teammates were now stretching out. "Not just as his employee. He seems very happy lately. I mean, he's a pretty happy guy in general. Really appreciates everything he has and wants to enjoy it.. But I can tell he likes you very much and he's even happier now. He deserves it. He's dated some duds, for sure."

Zayn hoped that she might reveal a bit more about those so-called duds but she didn't. And Zayn didn't feel right asking her. Instead he just said, "I like him, too. He's great to talk to and just hang out with. It's nice, y'know?"

"Yeah, I do." Sophia got a sweet faraway smile on her face. "That's how I felt about my fiancé Liam. Ended up falling hard for that one. Best thing that ever happened to me." She paused for a moment and said cheekily, "You know your eyes have barely left Niall the whole time we've been sitting here, right? And with all the eye candy here, that's quite a feat. You more than like him, don't you?"

Zayn abruptly stopped staring at Niall bending over to touch his toes and he turned to Sophia with an awkward cough. "More than like? You mean...? Love? No, no, it's nothing like that. We - we like each other and we're just enjoying whatever this is. It's chill."

Sophia nodded. She said kindly, "Alright. Chill is nice. - You can tell me to buzz off at any moment, you know. I won't be offended. Niall says I'm too nosy and he's right."

"No, you're okay," Zayn said with a laugh. It was true that she was nosy but she was also good company. Niall straightened up at that moment and as the coaches began walking away, he waved Zayn to come over onto the field. Practice was over. Zayn stood up, thinking: _here goes nothing_. Niall was standing with four other players in a loose circle, talking and laughing about something. Zayn only recognized one of them - Louis, from the club.

When Zayn reached their group, Niall beamed at him and wrapped a tight arm around his waist. Niall was all sweaty and pretty gross but Zayn found that he didn't mind. Niall said lowly into Zayn's ear for only him to hear, "You alright? I hope Sophia wasn't too annoying." When Zayn shook his head, assuring him that she wasn't, Niall said in his normal voice, "Let me introduce everyone. Boys, this is Zayn. And this is Louis, Matt, Aiden and Alfredo." He pointed to each of the players in turn.

"Look at Niall. Suddenly he's Mr Calm and Cool," the one named Alfredo said with a wink at Zayn. "Almost as though five minutes ago he wasn't stressing out and making threats on our lives because he was convinced we're gonna do or say something to embarrass him."

"Embarrass him? Like mention how he got drunk after our last win and spent a good 30 minutes of the night trying to get me to listen to his self-debate about whether Zayn's eyes are more golden or more hazel?" Aiden piped up sweetly.

"Oh my God. It was not 30 minutes," Niall muttered going beet-red while Zayn tried not to laugh.

"Rest in peace, Aiden," Matt said, definitely not trying to hide his laughter. "Hey, it's nice to finally meet you, Zayn. Niall's told us a lot about you." Matt politely shook Zayn's hand.

"Yeah, my attempts to embarrass Niall aside, it's nice to finally put a face to the name," Aiden said. "I'm going to go with golden, for the record." Aiden rubbed his shoulder where Niall had just whacked him.

"And of course, we've already met," Louis said in a voice that did not convey whether this was a good thing or bad thing. His voice was very measured and he appeared to be sizing Zayn up, just like that first day.

"Hi," Zayn said in everyone's general direction, feeling only a little overwhelmed. "Nice to meet you all. You guys must be so tired. Practice looked hectic." They all nodded and a couple even groaned.

"It's worth it, though. This game, this team means everything to us and to our fans," Niall said. He squeezed Zayn's hip. "How are you acting like we don't smell like sewage right now? We need to hit the showers. Alfredo's invited us over for dinner at his. You keen? Or you had other plans?"

"Um. Dinner sounds good. Thanks, Alfredo," Zayn said in response. Niall's friends seemed nice enough.

Matt glanced at his watch and looking alarmed, began jogging towards the locker rooms. He called back at them, "I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other, Zayn! But I need to run. Important night tonight, lads." Oh yeah, he was proposing to his girlfriend. Zayn wanted to wish him luck but then again, he wasn't really supposed to know about that.

Niall pressed a quick kiss to Zayn's lips and whispered, "Give me 20 minutes max and I'll meet you back out here."

He began to walk away with the others but then he came back two seconds later, smiling so wide. "Hey. Is it weird that I kind of want to take you and go introduce you to every person I've ever known since primary school? I mean, me playing for Arsenal is pretty cool but I think they'd be more impressed I'm dating you." And with a wink, he walked away leaving Zayn kind of speechless. Zayn was also left with a sudden desire to run after him and suck him off right there on the field and do anything else Niall wanted.

And just like that, almost reluctantly, Zayn accepted it. He accepted that he was falling for this person. Niall was a walking contradiction of everything Zayn had expected him to be. A completely open book, but then there were also layers and layers under the surface that you got to peel back as he let you. Zayn was falling hard and that realization rooted him to the spot as he stood alone on an empty field.

===========

After all those tense months of hard work and all those late nights in the studio, Damien's song was finally getting out there., slowly but surely. Zayn's old buddy from uni had connection at BBC Radio 1 and they even spinned it a few times in the early graveyard hours of the morning. College and community radio stations were responding well to it, too. And then one evening in August, Zayn got the best phone call of his entire life.

Someone from RCA record label had heard the song and they were interested in buying the song, signing Damien and taking Zayn on as a producer-songwriter for his album. They were only interested at this stage, nothing concrete, but that didn't even matter to Zayn because he'd always known that all he ever needed was a chance with a record label and he'd be able to convince them. Zayn might have cried as he called Niall with the good news immediately after he was done talking to the lady from RCA. He definitely cried when he ran into Harry's room and told him too.

"Are you fucking with me??" Harry asked in a wobbly voice.

"No! Do I look like I'm fucking with you? I swear to God, a rep from RCA just called me. Me and Damien have a meeting with them next Monday!" Zayn exclaimed, jumping onto Harry's bed, feet first.

"I love you! I'm so happy for you! Zayn, you deserve this so much."

"Love you too, mate. Fuck, I can't believe it! I've been wanting this for so long." Zayn was so giddy and he was pretty sure he was rambling. "Nothing is for sure yet, though. But things are sounding very positive."

And then they weren't.

Two days before the scheduled meeting, Zayn got another important phone call from RCA. Apparently Damien and his parents had requested a private meeting with the label and had expressed their concern that Zayn wasn't the right producer to really take Damien's career forward. Damien wanted a more commercial sound that was sure to sell, and in the end, RCA was persuaded. They liked Zayn's song a lot but the artist was what had sold the song ultimately and RCA wanted Damien. Damien didn't want Zayn.

"We're still willing to buy the song from you," the rep explained. "But we probably won't be needing your services after that. We can arrange another meeting for the legalities."

"But my song is the entire reason why Damien was heard in the first place," Zayn said, mind reeling and throat tight. "I've spent close to a year working with him. A year of my hard-earned time and money. And just like that, I'm out?"

"I'm sorry, Mr Malik," the lady said awkwardly. "I wasn't actually privy to the meeting with Damien. I'm just relaying a message from the label."

When she hung up, Zayn stayed motionless on the couch, completely numb, not yet ready to let in the sure-to-come feelings of mortification, disappointment, hurt, confusion. So he just sat on the couch and felt nothing. Harry found him like that when he came home from work two hours later.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“What would you say about us checking out of this life and responsibilities thing for like… a week?” Niall was gently nibbling on Zayn’s neck as he spoke, nipping and kissing the skin there in between words, leaving tingling imprints with every press of his lips. This made it a little hard for Zayn to concentrate on what he was saying. The two of them were over at Niall’s, having just eaten dinner, Zayn slouching longways on the living room couch with his back pressed against Niall’s chest. Some or other episode of Friends was playing on the Samsung flatscreen.

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“Let’s go somewhere. You and me.” Niall turned down the volume a little. “You’ve been so down since that thing with Damien and the label last week. And you have every right to be. I just - I think you could do with a break. I’m thinking, somewhere pretty and quiet.”

Zayn sat up properly, moving away from Niall. He’d been doing his best not to think about the mess that had happened the other week. “I can’t just take a break. I need to figure out what I’m gonna do next. I mean, if I still wanna do this at all. At some point, don’t I need to realistically consider that maybe my pie in the sky dreams are not going to work out and I should go get a real job…?”

Niall’s face fell and he said immediately, “Music _is_ a real job. It can be. I hate that all of this is making you want to give up something you love more than anything. This kid, he screwed you over and that sucks so much and yeah a big petty part of me still wants him to pay… I still think you should sue - there has to be a loophole somewhere. My lawyers can find - okay, the look on your face is telling me you still don’t want me to do that. Fine. It’s not even about him right now. I know he screwed you over but that doesn’t mean you should just give up on producing.”

“Not everybody is you, Niall.” Zayn fought very hard to not let the true extent of his inner unrest creep into his voice. “Your story is the exception not the rule. Millions of kids and even adults around the world want to be singers and actors and footballers and some of them even have talent. But, like, how many actually make it? It doesn’t happen for everybody. And I have to learn to be okay with the fact that what I want might not happen for me.”

Zayn wasn’t okay with it. Deep down, he felt like a failure, a loser even. Mid-twenties and still with no clue what path his life was supposed to take. Sitting on his Premier League footballer boyfriend’s multi-thousand pound designer couch. The contrast was astounding, the more he thought about it.

“But it might happen, Zayn. Me being where I am today wasn’t by pure luck or chance, I had to actively try every damn day for years and work and work. Being okay with something maybe not happening is not the same thing as throwing in the towel and calling it a day.” Niall scooted over to Zayn, covering the short distance between them. He simply took his hand and held it. “Look, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I know you have a lot to think about. Just oblige me this one thing. Please, babe. One week.”

When Zayn didn’t say anything, Niall pressed some more, “I’ve felt like such a useless boyfriend this whole week. You know when you just want to fix something for someone and make them feel better but you can’t? It’s a terrible feeling. I know this won’t fix stuff but let me do this one thing.” Niall squeezed his hand and waited.

Nearly a minute of silence passed. “Okay.”

“Okay? As in yes?”

Zayn nodded and gave him a small smile.

“Wow. Would you look at that - first smile I’ve seen from you in days.” Niall laughed and settled back along the couch, bringing Zayn with him. “Told you this break thing was a good idea.”

“So, where are we going?”

“Oh. Um.” Niall laughed some more, the loud full sound tumbling out of his chest and into Zayn’s heart, warming him. “Well, I hadn’t thought that far yet. Had to convince you first, didn’t I? You can pick. Cape Town? Santorini? Some sunny island? We can go wherever you want.”

“I literally have no clue. You choose. This is all your idea so see it through.” Zayn paused for a beat. “Thank you, by the way. A break sounds nicer and nicer the more I think about it.”

===============

Niall picked the Swiss Alps. And of course his choice was perfect. They were booked into a private chalet in Vaud, Switzerland - secluded and picturesque, with a mountain view and a clear sparkling lake not more than a minute’s walk away. On all sides, they were surrounded by long stretches of green forestry. The area was so gorgeous now in the summer and Zayn imagined that it would look absolutely breathtaking in winter too, green replaced with blankets of white. The second they put their luggage down in the chalet on the Sunday morning of their arrival, it was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders in more ways than one.

The chalet itself was spacious and charming, it’s highlight being the quaint old traditional kitchen that had a refurbished antique stone fire-stove. The rest of the apartment was more modern, a pleasing mix of wood paneling and granite walls. It had 3 bedrooms but of course they would only need one.

In the shower, after the two of them had washed the travel grime and slime off, Zayn showed Niall just how much he appreciated his choice of vacation spots. And then he showed him again when they eventually stumbled into the bedroom thirty minutes later, lips still locked and skin not even remotely toweled off and dry.

Later that afternoon, they used the car they’d hired to drive over to the nearest village 15 minutes away to buy groceries. The minuscule town only had one mini-mart but they were able to stock up on basics like pasta, cereal and good fresh meat which they immediately loaded into the fridge-freezer when they got back to the chalet. Niall cooked up a delicious concoction of pasta and braised fish which they ate outside on the patio at around 11 pm, plates on their knees.

As Zayn fell asleep that night, he thought about how he just knew that he’d found something special with this guy. He was so thankful for him, thankful for this moment and even thankful for his life, as imperfect as it was back home.

“If you weren’t playing football, what would you be doing?” Zayn asked this the next morning as they lounged in bed like deadbeat bums, with the window wide open so they could stare at the beauty of the mountains in the distance.

“Um…” Niall appeared to consider the question. “Wow. That’s fucking weird. I’ve never really thought about it and in all the interviews I’ve done, nobody has ever asked me that… I don’t know what I would be doing. Probably still be in Mullingar. Working with Da at the butchery, maybe.”

“Okay. But is there anything else you really wanted to do?”

“No. Not really. I lived, breathed and ate football.” Niall rubbed a lazy hand up and down Zayn’s back. “Why do you ask?”

“Because, I feel the same way. It’s like, I like teaching just fine and I could probably do it for the rest of my life and be relatively happy. But.” Zayn sighed.

“You want more than to be just relatively happy. You want to do something you love.”

“Yes. Is that naive? Of course you’re gonna tell me it’s not. But let’s just put ideals aside for a moment. Bills need to be paid. I won’t always be twenty-something. Maybe doing something I like should be enough. Some people aren’t even that lucky.” Zayn hated getting into such a heavy topic when they were meant to be on vacation, but he couldn’t help it. This place was helping to clear up his muddled thoughts but he still had a lot to consider.

Niall was quiet for a moment and then he leaned over to give his boyfriend a soft kiss. “You’re right, we are lucky. Maybe not lucky as such, but fortunate, blessed. Maybe one day you’ll have to choose but it doesn’t have to be today. Babe, you’re so talented. I know you think I’m being idealistic and naive about all of this, but I’ll never tell you to stop doing what you love. I can’t.”

“I don’t want to stop. I just - I’m so mad at Damien. And it’s so unfair that you can work on something for however long - really put everything you have into it. And then some shit decides he wants to take your work. And they can. All because they have money and hot shot lawyers on their side! How is that fair? It’s so - God, it makes me want to scream. I’m so… mad, Niall. I’m furious inside and I don’t like it. I thought we were friends. He couldn’t even do me the courtesy of telling me himself that he wanted to cut me out of the deal.” Zayn realized that he’d started crying. Angry and hurt streams, coming down steady. He hurriedly tried to brush the wetness off his face but Niall grabbed his wrist and instead kissed him until the fury and discontent in Zayn’s bones settled into something better.

“Will you knee me in the nuts if I tell you I’m glad to see these tears? Ow. Okay, not glad but more like, relieved.” Niall rubbed his own shoulder where Zayn had just pinched him. “You’ve been walking around like a shell of yourself this past week, quiet and moody as hell. Not admitting just how much what happened hurt you. I’m just glad you’re letting it all out.”

“I’m ruining our trip, is what I’m doing.”

“No, you’re not. This was the whole point of this trip. I just wanted you to stop ignoring the fucking mess I know you’re feeling. And now, I think that’s finally happening. So, I’m glad.”

Zayn rolled over onto his back, laughing a little. “Next time you want to see a few tears from me, you don’t need to fork out all this money on a chalet in the mountains. Just switch the TV on and pop in a movie where the dog dies. Save yourself a few pounds.”

“You know me. I go big or go home. And I’ve already gotten the best shower blowjob of my life outta this trip. And this morning you rode me like your life depended on it. I think I made the right call,” Niall said with a cheeky grin.

“The mountain air or something. I’ve been really horny since we got here,” Zayn said. He shrugged.

“You make me horny,” Niall said without skipping a beat. Zayn snorted at the blunt inelegant honesty in that statement. Niall yawned wide and long before announced, “Christ, I’m starving. It has to be past noon. Drag your arse out of bed and help me make something wholesome and nourishing.”

Zayn feigned sudden deafness. Niall jumped out of bed with way more energy than Zayn felt was warranted. He then pulled the lovely fluffy pillow from under Zayn’s head and threw it on the floor, chuckling. “Get up! Laziest fucking person in the world, I swear. I don’t know why I lo - Just get up. Jesus Christ.”

Zayn stared longingly at the pillow on the floor before crawling out of bed. Niall forcing him out of warm cosy beds was nothing new and Zayn had learned ages ago that fighting him didn’t help. The Arsenal striker was unrelenting when he wanted to be.

They spent the rest of the day out by the lake, sitting on the dock as they talked and watched the water until it got dark out and they couldn’t see much anymore. Zayn was writing again by the third day, not a song yet, just his thoughts and ponderings for now. Niall left him to it whenever he saw Zayn busy with his notebook.

Niall would switch on the TV and watch some horribly-dubbed American sitcom, or he’d go for a short hike (something he was never and would never be able to convince Zayn to join him on).

Deep in his heart, Zayn knew that he wasn’t ready to give up on music. He’d doubted himself for a few steps there but he knew he’d never forgive himself if he just gave up. Over some punk kid with no apparent morals or conscience. No way. He couldn’t wait to get back home and finish some of the other stuff he’d been working on pre-Damien. This break had been just what he’d needed but he was happy that he had a life to get back to that he was excited about once again.

On Friday, when Zayn was done writing for the day (an actual chorus of a song), he ambled over from the dining room table where he was working to the living room where Niall was taking a nap. He considered sitting on Niall’s stomach to wake him up but found he couldn’t get himself to do it. He was getting soft in his old age. Instead, he kissed Niall’s forehead and then whispered into his ear, “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

Niall stirred at once, sitting up and rubbing one eye. “What time is it? Didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”

“Almost 5. We should probably start packing and clearing up around here. Tomorrow’s check out.” Zayn sat down on the couch beside Niall. Despite his words, he settled back and switched the TV on. TOWIE was on, of all things.

“Oh God,” Niall groaned, trying to reach for the remote control.

Zayn refused to hand it over, laughing as Niall grew more and more exasperated. “It's entertaining. Just let me watch this one episode."

"Can we not..."

"Ha, they’re screaming at each other and crying. Sick. It’s gonna be a good one.”

“Zayn, can you just change the channel, please.” Niall was not kidding and he was not smiling even a little bit.

Um. “What’s wrong?”

Niall ran a hand through his hair and stood up. He said, walking towards the kitchen, “My ex is on this show. She and her so-called ‘BFF’ are on that screen right now. Spoiler: she only met that girl when they were cast.” He disappeared from view and Zayn was left sitting there, staring at the screen.

Zayn already knew that Niall was bisexual because Niall had told him months ago. That wasn’t the issue. It was just a little surprising that he’d dated some reality starlet. The real reason why Zayn was staring at the screen was because he was trying to figure out which girl it was. But of course he had no way of knowing. He got up and went to the kitchen, too.

“The blonde or the redhead?” He asked Niall. Niall was making tea or something and had his back turned to Zayn.

“The redhead,” he answered. He slowly turned around and looked at Zayn. “Sorry for that back there. I just don’t want to see her at all. We dated a year back and she cheated on me.”

“So… you’re still upset about it? Do you still have feelings for her?” Zayn hated to ask but he had to. This was bringing the memory of that Spanish girlband fiasco back and Zayn had promised himself then that he’d make sure he got all the facts in future.

“No. God, no,” Niall shook his head hard and walked over to Zayn. “I genuinely do not care for her anymore. I wish her all the best and all that muck, y’know. But I just don’t want to watch her shit TV show. Here with you. It felt like it was… tainting our week, somehow.”

“Okay… You seemed upset, though.”

Niall sighed. “I was a little. But you’re getting the reason so wrong. I was upset because this week has been like - fucking perfect. I’ve had the best time and I can’t wait to do this again with you. Seeing Minky was like a cold hard push back into reality. I mean, I’m happy to get back to London and see everybody and my team. But at the same time, this was so nice. Just you and me.”

That made Zayn happy, giddy even. “Thank you for this, by the way. For convincing my stubborn arse to come.” Zayn’s draped his hands around Niall’s waist, pulling him inwards for a tight hug. “I needed this. This place. You.”

“I’ll always be there when you need me," Niall said, so earnest and uncharacteristically sweet. There was nothing for Zayn to do but cradle Niall’s face with both hands and give him the slowest dirtiest kiss that left Zayn’s heart pounding like one of the heavy drumbeats he used in his songs. Zayn’s ass slammed into the back of a cupboard as Niall pressed him up against it and stuck his hand up Zayn’s shirt, idly running his thumb over a hardened nipple. And then the other nipple. Zayn’s knees felt a little limp then and he had to grip the top of the cupboard behind him - he had the half-coherent thought that it was pretty ridiculous that his boyfriend could turn him on this much literally just with his thumb.

Niall pulled away but only to pull Zayn away from the cupboard by the arm. He pulled Zayn in front of him and began pushing him towards the bedroom, nudging Zayn’s ass with his hands the entire way to direct him as though Zayn couldn’t get there on his own. “Cutest little toosh I’ve ever seen. I want to do very uncute things to it, though. I want to bite it, ravage it. I want to destroy you. Gonna make you come so hard, babe.” Niall’s breathing was becoming more and more ragged with every word he spoke.

Jesus. One time at Niall’s house, Niall had actually made him black out for a few seconds. Right now, Zayn didn’t think he had the strength to endure an orgasm that intense. They’d already had a busy week and he was almost all fucked out. He did want to be fucked one more time, though. He felt like he would always want Niall one more time.

He flopped down face first onto the bed with a heart that was already beating way too fast. Niall, naked now, pulled Zayn’s sweatpants down to his thighs and bent down to bite into Zayn’s ass cheek none too gently. Zayn wriggled and moaned, wanting him to do it again. Niall obliged before moving up Zayn’s body to mouth at the back of Zayn’s neck. Niall slid two fingers into him without warning but there was no resistance. “Don’t even need me to open you, do you. You can still tell I was here, inside you, this morning, last night. Do you have any idea how hot that is…”

“No. You can tell me, though, since you seem to wanna talk right now instead of actually fucking me.” Sometimes Zayn liked to pretend to be a dick, only because Niall made it so rewarding.

“You say that like I can’t do both-“ Niall fumbled for the lube they kept under the pillow and found it. “I can talk to you about how I love it when you act like you don’t want it as much as we both know you do. You’re adorable, really. And wow, at the very same time, I can do _this_.”

Zayn whimpered the second Niall filled him with a slow deep stroke. He loved it and yes, they both knew it. He loved Niall’s dick, loved sucking it, loved being fucked by it. Niall fucked him in that bed until he was a weak immobile mess, until he couldn’t even talk, until Zayn’s mind was blank of everything but the need to come. And the release when he finally did come was so fucking good that he almost said thank you. Niall, the ass, talked the whole way through, voice getting progressively weaker until even he couldn’t keep up the game anymore. The last thing he said was, “You’ll be the end of me.”

 _Ditto_ , Zayn thought.

A short while later they were cleaned and getting settled in bed, under the covers.

“Niall…”

“Hmm? You want to be big spoon instead?”

“No. I love you.” Zayn bit his lip and shut his eyes hard.

Zayn actually heard Niall’s breath hitch and the way his whole body seemed to still even though he hadn’t been moving before either. In those two seconds that felt like an eternity, Zayn wished so much that he hadn’t confessed his feelings. It was obviously too soon for Niall.

Then, in the dark, Zayn was suddenly pushed onto his back while Niall climbed on top of him and kissed him like the world was ending in approximately 30 seconds. “I love you. I love you, too.”

“Yeah?” Zayn asked with a smile.

“Yes. I almost said it so many times but I didn’t want to freak you out and make you run for the hills,” Niall explained. He laughed softly against Zayn’s stubbled cheek. “I see you didn’t have similar fears. I’m glad.”

Zayn was in love. And the man loved him back. If that wasn’t the best thing in this entire world, he didn’t know what was.

===========

"You're in the Daily Mail. My sister called and told me." This was what Harry woke Zayn up with on Monday morning at their flat, when Zayn was back after the best week of his life. 

"What?" Zayn asked blearily. "Go away. What time is it?"

Harry did the opposite of going away, he got into bed beside Zayn and kept talking. "Look, I know you're hob-knobbing with the rich and famous now and even before that, you were too cool for school - but even you can't pretend that your face in the freaking Daily Mail isn't something worth getting up for."

Zayn heard and understood him a little more clearly this time. Daily Mail. What? "Daily Mail.. What?"

"It's about you and Niall. Oh now, he's suddenly awake. Here, I've got it open on my phone."

Zayn grabbed Harry's phone out of his hand and looked at the article in question.

 

**Arsenal's Niall Horan and rumoured new flame put on a steamy PDA show at the airport**

 

Zayn rolled his eyes. "PDA? Steamy? We were just holding hands, I'm pretty sure."

"There were a few kisses too," Harry supplied helpfully. "But cute kisses. Yeah, that headline makes it sound a lot more steamy and hot than it really was."

"Thanks?" Zayn turned his attention back to Harry's phone and kept reading.

 

_Rumours have been circulating for months now that Arsenal's 24 year old striker is off the market and it would appear those rumours are true. Niall Horan was spotted at Heathrow Airport late on Saturday night, returning from an undisclosed location, with a hunky man in tow. Sources reveal the man is a 23 year old teacher named Zane Malik and that the two have been friends since childhood but only recently became romantically involved. Putting on a very playful display in the baggage retrieval area, the Mullingar native and his new boyfriend snuck in a number of kisses, apparently unaware of the cameras. This latest news will be the final dagger in the coffin that was 'Ninky' - Niall Horan and TOWIE star Minky Strand, the couple once famously labelled the new Posh and Becks._

 

The article then went on to talk about Minky and the latest episode of TOWIE so Zayn stopped reading. He looked over at Harry and after a second, they both started cracking up and didn't really stop for the whole morning. 

 


	11. Chapter 11

It’s weird how somebody can become such an integral part of your life, can become so deeply woven in your day to day, that you get to a point where you can’t really remember a time when you didn’t love them. Niall became a constant for Zayn over the months that followed, as constant as Harry’s friendship and weekly phone calls with Doniyah and lazy Sunday mornings spent doodling silly things in his notepad while listening to new music. Sometimes Zayn almost forgot that Niall was famous - it was easy to forget… to Zayn, Niall was just _Niall_.

Niall was his cute funny boyfriend who made Zayn laugh until his stomach ached and he begged for mercy, who loved purple jelly sweets and hated shopping malls with a passion, who couldn’t fall asleep unless he was wrapped around either Zayn or a pillow. Niall was Niall. It was easy to forget the other stuff. Zayn was only really reminded when they were out in public and Niall would get asked to sign a few photographs and take photos with grinning fans. And once, at the supermarket some young man actually stopped Zayn in the cereal aisle and said, “You’re that, um, Zeke guy who’s dating Niall Horan, right? Been a Gunners supporter since I was 3. Can’t wait for the game next weekend.” Zayn had smiled politely, not really knowing how to respond.

July turned into August, into September. Niall’s birthday was coming up and the only reason Zayn even knew that was because he’d maybe scoured Niall’s wikipedia page one day and could now probably recite the whole thing word for word. Early in September, Zayn realized that he needed to figure out what to buy for his boyfriend and from that day on, he worked himself up into an ever growing headache-inducing frenzy. When you’re living on supply teacher’s wages, what on earth do you buy for someone who can buy themselves practically anything? Zayn wanted to get it right. This would be the first birthday they would be celebrating together and it felt important.

He got so desperate that he resorted to asking the people closest to him for advice, which was unusual for him. He wasn’t really one to solicit or take advice; he preferred to work things out for himself, however long that took. But nonetheless, he asked a few people.

“Buy him cologne or something. That Gucci one Mum got you is divine,” Doniyah said.

Zayn had been over at Niall’s enough times to know that Niall had roughly 20 bottles of fragrances, 90% of them unopened. He probably didn’t need another one.

“Ask him, late one night or early one morning when he’s so sleepy that he’ll tell you the truth. Ask him for 5 things he wants and get him one,” Harry told him. But that felt like cheating to Zayn. He wanted to think of something on his own (or at least without Niall’s involvement). And Zayn was still worried that he wouldn’t be able to afford whatever Niall wanted and that by asking Niall to name stuff, Zayn would be committing himself to months of financial ruin.

“Fuck his brains out,” Zayn’s cousin Isar suggested via text. “Every single thing he’s ever told you he wants to try in bed, do it. Your goal should be to make him speak in tongues by the end of it all. That’s a happy birthday.”

“Your mum has no idea who you really are,” was Zayn’s response. But really, that idea was not bad and Zayn filed it away as a backup plan.

Niall was oblivious to Zayn’s growing distress about the impending birthday. He only even bothered to mention his birthday the day before, when they were out at some club in north London with Sophia and her boyfriend Liam. “11 o’clock. One more hour before old age sets in,” Niall remarked with a grin, back against the wall where Zayn had him pressed into a corner in the VIP section. “25. Can’t believe I’m getting so fucking old. In some ways, I’m still 19 in my head.”

“So, old man…” Zayn started slowly. He dropped a kiss on Niall’s neck, then one on his lips. He pulled back for a second. “...you got any plans for tomorrow? 25 is sort of a huge deal.”

Niall shrugged. “Not really. I don’t ever really plan for these things in advance. I just do whatever I feel like when the day comes. Maybe we can all go out for a pint, or 10. Or we can come back here. I’ll see. You’re free, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s your birthday. If I wasn’t free, I still wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good answer.” Niall draped his arms around Zayn’s neck and nodded towards something in the distance beyond Zayn’s back. “Liam’s dancing on a table and Soph’s trying to get him down. Love that guy. He’s a bit stuffy when you first meet him but get to known him and get a bit of booze in him, and you’ll never know a funner person.”

“ _Funner_ ’s not a word,” Zayn said fondly.

“Yeah, it is. You knew what I meant when I said it and the meaning was - effectively communicated and correctly interpreted.” Niall laughed as Zayn merely rolled his eyes. “If I said funner to any random person in this club, they would know what I meant, too. That’s a word to me. But keep correcting me. That whole brainy English teacher thing you have going on is sexy as hell.”

“Alright,” Zayn conceded, really just wanting to kiss him. “Liam’s not as fun as me, though.” Zayn kissed him. And when the clock struck 12 and they were beyond plastered sitting around a table with Liam and Sophia, Zayn turned to Niall and kissed him again, lips locked for such a long time that he almost forgot where they were. “Happy birthday,” he whispered.

In the morning, he ignored the pounding signs of his mild hangover and got up to make Niall eggs, sausage and toast. Niall was still sleeping when Zayn walked back into the bedroom carrying a tray. It was nice to be the one waking Niall up for once instead of the other way around. Zayn set the tray down on the unoccupied side of the bed and that small movement made Niall stir until he eventually opened his eyes. Niall smiled for a long time, looking first at the tray and then at Zayn. Then he said, “Wow. It kinda just hits you sometimes.”

“What?”

“That I love you.”

Zayn shot him a crooked smile, trying not to give in to the temptation to gnaw on his bottom lip because Niall would ask him what’s wrong. “Before we eat, can I give you your present?” Zayn asked nervously from where he now stood at the foot of the bed. He ran his hands through his messy hair to give himself something to briefly concentrate on. A few days ago, Zayn had decided what he was going to get Niall but now that the moment of truth was actually here, he was nervous.

“Yes, please.” Niall sat up excitedly. “I love gifts! You didn’t have to get me anything, though. Being with you is enough of a present.” He paused for a moment, laughing really hard and covering his face. “Shit, that was so corny. Never tell anybody I said that. But what’s even more worrying is that I mean it.”

“It’s a song,” Zayn said, bringing his laptop over to the bed and trying not to make too much of the way Niall’s eyes immediately lit up. Zayn set the laptop on Niall’s lap and continued, “I burned it on a CD for you but it’s probably easier for you to listen to it this way. This is the first song I ever wrote about you…”

“I never knew you wrote any. About me, I mean. Play it! I want to listen.”

“Um. There are a few about you,” Zayn said quietly. Maybe more than a few. Zayn set the tray of food near their feet and got into bed beside Niall. “There are a few but this was the first one. I wrote it months and months ago, after the first time you came over here and we had sex. That night was like, amazing. But in some ways it wasn’t because we fought and you left because I said I didn’t want anything heavy. But after that. I wanted you and I couldn’t stop thinking about that night. Until eventually I had to sit down, write it all out. I recorded a demo when I was done and I never really did anything with it, never gave it to an artist or anything. But I want to give it to you.”

Niall took a deep breath. “My heart is beating kinda fast. And I haven’t even heard it yet. But it’s just that you don’t really share your music with me, I’ve only heard a few things here and there. Will you play it before I pass out??”

Zayn pressed play on the Soundcloud account he’d set up just for this purpose and a second later his soft croon filled the room, accompanied by a low moving melody on a lone piano.

**I can’t quite figure it out**

**Why you’re in my head when I don’t even want you**

**That’s what I tell myself**

**But what if that’s not true**

**What if I want to take it back**

**Ask you to stay, ask you to touch me all night**

**In the morning ask you if you want your coffee black**

**I can’t quite figure it out**

 

**I wonder what you would do**

**If you could see in my head**

**If you knew**

**That I think about everything**

**If you knew**

**How much I still want you**

**What would you do?**

 

The song came to an end a minute later and then there was dead silence for a few moments, thick and heavy, or at least it felt like that to Zayn. Zayn turned to look at his boyfriend and realized that Niall’s chest was falling and rising like mad, and more importantly there was such a look of joy on his face that it made Zayn want to whoop in triumph and pat himself on the back. He’d gotten the gift right.

Niall pressed play again and as the song began playing, he finally spoke, “This is amazing. I love it. This is like, a piece of you. Something straight from your head and your heart. Tops everything. It’s so good and like, what the fuck, it’s about me??

“Your voice is beautiful, babe,” Niall commented softly midway through the second play. He reached for a sausage. "For Christmas, I want a whole CD of you singing to me. Even if it’s just the alphabet. I know you don’t want to be a singer, but you could be. You have so much talent.”

“Thank you. I just wanted to make you happy today,” Zayn said, sounding pretty happy himself. Zayn loved him and seeing Niall smile this much - nothing in the world was better.

“I’m happy,” Niall confirmed. “This song - it makes me happy and and it turns me on and kinda makes me wanna cry, all at once. So good. Thank you for this.”

“You really like it that much? I wasn’t sure- I thought maybe I should buy you something instead.”

Niall shook his head and clutched the laptop tighter as though Zayn was about to snatch it away. “I didn’t even know this song was a thing before 10 minutes ago but believe me when I say it’s the nicest gift you could’ve ever given me. If I had known this song was a thing, it would’ve been at the top of my wishlist.”

“Cool." Zayn leaned towards him and planted a kiss on his cheek, having to avoid his lips because Niall was now shoveling sausage and egg into his mouth. "Happy birthday, beautiful. What do you wanna do today?”

Instead of answering that question, Niall blurted out, “Let me buy you a studio.”

=================

Zayn had politely declined that offer, immediately and firmly. He’d felt uncomfortable that the offer was even put on the table, but he hadn’t wanted to get riled up on Niall’s birthday. So Zayn had changed the subject and thought that was that.

But now, two weeks later, the issue came up again. Zayn was taking on a lot more teaching jobs than usual that autumn and winter, having decided that it was time to buckle down and get serious - if he really wanted to become a success musically, then he needed to save money and make sure that he had enough stashed away to live decently while he concentrated on music in the future. When he realized that the extra wages he was getting from taking on a few more teaching gigs a month wasn’t really gonna cut it, he put adverts in the newspaper for private evening tutoring lessons for primary and secondary school students. English and Geography. All of this meant that he was busy a lot during the week, throughout the day. He missed some of Niall’s local games, something he really didn’t want to miss out on. He didn’t see his friends as much as he liked because Harry worked weird hours and Isar got a new girlfriend sometime in October. But he reminded himself that he was working towards something.

Niall brought up the ridiculous offer once again, late one Sunday evening when they were over at Niall’s listening to records in his chill room.

Zayn immediately bristled and said, “We’ve already had this conversation. It's nice of you to offer but there's no need.”

Niall leaned over sideways to kiss him for a moment, so softly and so gently that Zayn immediately relaxed again and the stirrings of irritation inside him melted away. But Niall then said, “Just hear me out. Every single person in this world just needs one person to give them a break. You are so talented and I know you’re gonna make it. You would make it even if you’d never met me, of course. But why can’t I be the person who helps you? Why can’t I help you not have to struggle so much? Zayn. If you have your own proper studio and some money to back artists, you can actually put your talent to full use.”

“I’m not taking money from you.” Zayn got up and walked across the room to go stare out the huge open window for a moment, before turning back around to face Niall. So many people already looked at the two of them's relationship and assumed that Niall was footing the bill for everything while Zayn freeloaded like a Los Angeles gold digger or something. Zayn didn't like it. “I don’t need any help. I don’t know what makes you think I do. What I need, what I want, is to do this on my own.”

There was a stupefied pause. “But why?”

“What do you mean why??”

Niall stood up, too. “I mean, we're together, right? Like, we're _together_ , it's you and me, and we support each other. I’m in a position where I can help you and make things easier for you, and it would make me happy to do it. Why don’t you ever want anybody to help you?”

“How did we go from me not wanting to take my boyfriend’s charity money to me not wanting anybody to ever help me?” Zayn was trying really hard to keep his voice cool and calm, but honestly, sometimes he didn’t understand why the fuck Niall said some of the things he did.

Niall sighed and seemed discouraged for about 1.5 seconds before he tried another direction. “If this is about your pride or something, you can always pay me back. When you can. Think of it as a loan. Not charity. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t believe in you, if I didn’t think you’d make the studio a success. It’s a sound investment on my part.”

“Niall, no. I’ve got this handled. I’m saving money.” Zayn's tone had a clear note of finality to it.

Not that that deterred Niall. "Just sleep on it, at least."

"I don't need to sleep on it! I've got this handled. Just like millions of people around the world who don't have rich boyfriends somehow manage to do."

“So you’re really not even gonna think about it.” Niall looked pretty confused and it was almost funny. “You’re just gonna keep tutoring and teaching and wasting your time?? All for a few pounds that won’t even make a dent in the amount of money it takes to get a studio up and running? You’re exhausted and what do you have to show for it? I don’t get it.”

There was silence for about three seconds before Zayn retorted, voice unmistakably chilly now, “You think me teaching kids is wasting my time? Nothing to show for it?”

Niall shook his head immediately, eyes a little wide, and came over to him, touching his arm. “That came out wrong. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. From what I saw that day we first met, you’re a good teacher and that’s not a waste of time. But I know now that you’d rather be doing something else with your time. That is all I meant. Zayn, I just want to help.”

Zayn experienced one of those moments where the anger and irritation just completely evaporate without warning and all that is left is fatigue. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore. And he told Niall exactly that.

“Fine,” Niall said, “I’ll drop it. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought - never mind.”

“It’s fine… Just, don’t bring it up again.” Zayn started making his way to the bedroom; he was exhausted just like Niall had said and ready to pass out.

Niall followed behind him. “I still think you’re being unnecessarily stubborn about this, but okay.”

When they fell asleep that night, it was on their own respective sides of the bed for once and the mood felt just that smidgen icy. But in the morning, all seemed to be forgotten and back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't write songs LOL but let's just pretend I can and that those lyrics are better than they are


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A character who was mentioned in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it scene in a previous chapter, makes a reappearance here!

"So… a funny thing happened yesterday,” Zayn said slowly. He bit into his chocolate croissant so as to buy a little time and figure out how to explain this properly.

They were at a cafe in Crouch End, having decided to get up that Sunday morning and actually go out for brunch instead of sleeping in and making do with cornflakes. Niall was going away to Paris for a few weeks, for an away game and some sponsorship meetings, so Zayn had wanted to take him out.

“What happened?” Niall asked. His head was down, brow furrowed, as he typed away on his phone at a lightning fast pace. He was probably texting his agent again, Zayn figured. Niall and his agent had been going back and forth over something for days, Zayn didn’t know what.

Zayn watched his boyfriend for a moment, and it occurred to him yet again how much he was going to miss Niall. Zayn loved having him close by, loved whispering to him late at night about nothing in particular, loved waking up and being unable to move because Niall was draped all over him.

It was only two and a half weeks, Zayn reminded himself. Zayn reached across the table and discreetly wiped away a speck of tomato sauce on the corner of Niall’s mouth. Niall looked up, smiling, “Thanks, Ma. Well? What’s the funny thing that happened?”

“Um. Nothing major, actually. Blast from the past, sort of.” Zayn sounded as chill and casual as ever, but actually he was still quite rattled by yesterday’s events. The phrase “it’s a small world” didn’t even begin to describe it.

“You saw someone you used to know?”

Zayn nodded. “Yeah. I went to tutor this girl yesterday afternoon. For the first time. So, I get there, right, and everything is fine, we get to work, I help her through her English essay. The girl, her name’s Lucy, she tells me she lives with her uncle and that the uncle will be home a little later.”

Zayn paused for a couple of beats, prompting Niall to ask, “And?”

“He came home a little while later, like she said, at around 5. And I nearly fell out of my chair when he walked into the dining room because I know him. Knew him. Quite well.” Zayn felt the heat rising in his cheeks and he hoped to God that this wasn’t visibly apparent.

Yesterday had been strange. Zayn still didn’t know what to make of it. He’d been sitting with Lucy at the dining room table where her homework was all spread out, giving her pointers on how she should conclude her essay on the novel _We Need to Talk About Kevin_ , when the living room door had opened.

“Luce?” A male voice had called out.

“We’re in here, Uncle Tony!” The bubbly 15 year old had bellowed back.

A few moments later, the Uncle Tony in question had appeared at the doorway and in the seconds that followed, there had been dead silence - Zayn’s silence was the shocked kind, Tony’s too probably, Lucy was likely just confused as to why her tutor and her uncle were staring at each other with ashen faces.

“He’s my ex,” Zayn explained now to Niall. “Lucy’s uncle Tony was my boyfriend years ago. Back home in Bradford. Crazy, right?”

“What? Really?" Niall sounded amazed. “What are the odds of something like that?”

“I know. It was - weird and so _so_ fucking awkward. He obviously didn’t want to explain to his young niece exactly how he knew me but like, she’s not stupid, yeah? She could tell there was something funny going on. But what was he going to say to her? _Yeah, I dated your tutor and I took his virginity when he was 17 and his parents nearly killed me?_ ”

Niall’s eyebrows did that slow gradual rise thing of theirs. “This Tony guy. Was your first? Okay. Just give me a second to process that.” Niall took a sip of his coffee, face unreadable. Then he abruptly stopped sipping and said, “Wait, how old is he? He’s old enough to have a teenage niece?”

“He’s…” Zayn did some quick calculations in his head. When they’d dated back when Zayn was 17, Tony had been 28. Big shot record store owner, he’d been a rockstar in Zayn’s young eyes. “He’s around 34 or something. He’s the last-born child at home. Lucy’s parents must be older.”

“How long were you with him for?”

“Not long. Maybe, 4 months?”

Niall took another sip of coffee. Zayn really had no idea what Niall was thinking and he realized that Niall was probably making sure of that - Niall was inscrutable sometimes, masterful at hiding whatever emotions or thoughts he didn’t want you to see at that particular time until he was ready for you to see.

Niall tilted his head to the side and asked, “Why did your parents nearly kill him? Not that I necessarily object.” He said that last part with a laugh.

“The age thing. I never really explicitly told them I was seeing him but they can home one day and shit - that day was horrible, worst day of my life. They came home much earlier than I was expecting and they, like, caught us. In my bed.”

“Oh my God. Babe.” Niall started laughing really hard. “That must’ve been great. For everyone involved. Imagine coming home to find your teenage son’s arse sticking up in the air and some old man grinding on him.”

“He was hardly an old man. And yeah, I don’t need you to repaint the scene with words,” Zayn said drily. “I’ve been trying to forget that day every since.”

“I can imagine,” Niall said just as drily. “You know what else? I find it hard to believe that this whole thing is a coincidence. I mean, babe, c’mon. He hired a tutor for his niece and that tutor’s name just happens to be Zayn? I assume whoever hires you does know your name beforehand, right? How many Zayns does he know?”

But Tony’s clear blatant shock at seeing Zayn sitting in his house yesterday hadn’t been the kind that could be faked. Zayn explained to Niall, “I went to uni with Lucy’s English teacher and he gave her my contact details because she’s struggling a bit in class. I’m not sure if Tony had anything to do with it. I’m like 99% sure he didn’t know it was gonna be me.”

Niall accepted that easily enough, he nodded. “Okay. It’s just strange. Your first time. Wow. Was it any good?” Niall wriggled his eyebrows up and down to show that he was only being half-serious.

Zayn rolled his eyes and adeptly changed the subject. He didn't want to talk to his current boyfriend about sex with his ex boyfriend; he'd just wanted to... disclose that the guy was around. Zayn didn't believe in secrets. “Are you done packing? You said you needed more socks. We should go to the shops now before you forget. Think I saw a Sports Direct down the road.”

“Oh yeah. And yes, I’m almost done. Just need to figure out a way to stuff my boyfriend in the side compartment of my suitcase.” Niall regarded Zayn thoughtfully, mouth quirked upwards. “You _are_ pretty skinny though. I think I can make it work.”

“I’m not skinny. Dickhead.” Zayn tried to sound like he was annoyed. He failed. So instead, he kicked Niall lightly under the table. “Somewhere in that insult, I'm almost certain you were trying to tell me you’re gonna miss me. The feeling’s mutual.”

“It wasn’t an insult. This might be the love goggles talking but I dig every single thing about you, head to toe.” Niall said it with a wide sweet smile. He tapped Zayn’s leg with his foot, too. Zayn just sat there for a moment, three-quarters happy and one-quarter sad, because yeah, Niall was the cutest and Zayn was definitely going to miss him.

He sighed and reminded himself yet again that two weeks wasn’t that long. “I’m stuffed. Let’s get the bill so we can go.” Zayn signaled to the waiter across the room that they were ready.

Niall withdrew his wallet from his jeans pocket and was already sliding out a shiny gold credit card when Zayn stopped him. “What are you doing, Niall? I said I wanted to take you out for breakfast.”

“Oh. But - we can split the bill, then.” He smiled easily, as though that was the end of that.

That was not the end of that. “I’m paying. I realize I’m not exactly swimming in dollars and pounds but I can afford to buy my boyfriend breakfast. Put that away.”

Niall shrugged. “But you’re saving money for your studio. So, how about I take care of the other stuff. You’re working towards something. You don’t have to spend your money on getting me breakfast.”

Zayn was silent for a moment. “I know you’re trying to help. You want to help. I get that. But what you don’t realize is that it’s actually a bit insulting. You not wanting me to pay for something that was my idea, something that I wanted to do for you.”

“Everything seems to be an insult today…” Niall made a big show of sliding his card back into its slot inside the wallet, as if to say, “It’s gone. Happy now?” What he actually said out loud was, “Okay. You’re paying. I appreciate it and I appreciate you. Would’ve ordered the salmon and caviar if I’d known.”

Zayn laughed as he signed the bill. He popped a complementary mint sweet into his mouth. “Didn’t you tell me just last week how much you hate caviar?”

“I love freeloading more than I hate caviar. Sacrifices must be made.”

“I better get that studio up and running, then.” Zayn stood up from the table and pulled Niall to his feet. He wrapped an arm around Niall’s waist and they made their way to the Jeep outside.

======================

It was three days later that Zayn heard his song on the radio. _His_ song, the song he wrote and composed himself, blaring out of Harry’s iPod dock in the kitchen on Radio 1. Damien’s raspy vibrato was as loud as ever, almost taunting Zayn. The song was noticeably different from the one Zayn had sold to the label - this version of the song was faster. The production too busy, practically overpowering Damien’s vocals. The melody was still there but the lyrics had been reworked and shortened to include a verse from some featured up and coming rapper. All in all, the song wasn’t what Zayn had envisioned when he’d first started on it. It was alright, though. He reckoned pop radio was going to eat it up.

Zayn was mostly over the whole Damien fiasco at this point; had since realized that he could and would do better than Damien. But still. It still stung a little. It also made him more determined, listening to that song in his kitchen while he made dinner for himself. Call him cocky if you must but it merely reinforced in him the hunch that he had more to offer the music scene than what was currently floating around on popular radio and TV.

He spent a lot of his evenings scouring YouTube for raw undiscovered talent and his first good find in a long time had been a month back, a trio of sisters from Surrey with pipes to rival old Motown artists. Their Mariah Carey and Destiny’s Child covers on YouTube were insane. He also saw a lot of potential in a 14 year old boy from right here in London who sang Justin Bieber and Usher covers. The kid was a little on the young side but with a couple of years and some practice to guide him, there could be something there.

Saving money was no easy feat though. Of course. Every extra cent Zayn made was going into a savings account at the bank. Zayn couldn’t even remember the last time he’d bought himself a new jumper or a pair of shoes. To paraphrase his boyfriend, sacrifices had to be made. Whenever he thought about how long saving up money was taking and how long it was still going to take him to save enough, it was somewhat discouraging. A little disheartening actually. But the only other option was giving up and Zayn was definitely not going to do that.

Being around Niall was inspiring to Zayn in that respect - Niall was a constant every-day reminder that crazy childhood dreams do come true and that sometimes, you could actually become exactly what you’d imagined yourself becoming when you were 10 years old.

=================

One full week into Niall’s trip, Zayn was woken up early in the morning by a series of texts coming through on his phone. He considered ignoring his phone and going back to sleep, but what if the texts were from Niall? He reluctantly opened his eyes and felt around for his phone.

The texts were from Niall.

**Hi baby. You up yet?**

**I’m knackered. had meetings all day yesterday with Adidas. But I’m free today, thank the Pope !**

**Should be sleeping in but instead I’m thinking about you. What have you done to me**

 

Zayn grinned - well, as much as he could that early in the morning. He typed back.

_I should tell my witchdoctor his potions worked. Got you nice and hooked. I can stop sprinkling secret herbs in your morning coffee now?_

_I miss you. Are your meetings going well?_

 

**Yeah. I’m excited. Got some cool stuff coming up. I’ll tell you when I get home**

**My agent actually wants me to ask you something. But I will when I’m home. Got other things on my mind right now though. So fucking horny**

 

_Aw poor you. What does that have to do with me_

 

Zayn’s phone rang ten seconds later. He laughed quietly to himself and picked it up on the second ring.

“I need a picture in my head. What are you wearing right now?” Niall’s voice was low, warm and sleepy.

“It’s 7 o’clock in the fucking morning. What do you think I’m wearing?”

“Hopefully nothing.”

Zayn decided to humor him. He could imagine Niall right now, splayed out across the bed, butt naked, hand probably resting on his stomach somewhere. Zayn said idly, “Almost. Got my y-fronts.”

“The white ones? I like you in those.” Niall’s breathing was picking up and that alone was enough to make Zayn’s heart rate pick up just that little bit too.

“No. The leopard print ones with the fur,” Zayn teased. He only had white ones. He stretched out and rolled over onto his back before slipping his free hand under his pants. That felt good and he made sure to let the tiniest of groans slip past his lips. “What were you doing right before you called me?”

“Texting you.”

Zayn laughed. “Before that.”

“Well… I had my hand around my cock, of course,” Niall said slowly. “Was pretending you were here and it was your mouth on me.”

“Yeah?” Zayn licked his lips. His hand around his own dick tightened for a second. He ran a thumb up to the tip and let out a shaky breath.

“Yeah."

"What else were you thinking about?"

"You really wanna know? Was thinking your mouth. About how much I love it when you swallow all of me, babe, take the whole thing in your mouth. And I look down and I can’t even see myself.” And with that, Niall moaned, guttural and deep, followed by a soft helpless, “Fuck.” Lord only knew what he was doing there in his hotel room.

Zayn gave in to it, closing his eyes and letting his mouth and mind run wild. “Been thinking about that all week. Thinking about how good it was the night before you left. Can't stop fucking thinking about it."

"All week?"

"Yeah. Thinking about your hands pinning me down, your mouth on my neck, in my ear.” Zayn stroked up and down the length of his dick, the want building and building until he was panting. He wanted his boyfriend so bad and it seemed criminally unjust in that moment that he was so far away.

“Do you have any idea how much I love fucking you,” Niall breathed out. “Keep talking. Your voice. I love it when it's rough like this in the morning. Tell me what else you like.”

“I can imagine your face right now. All flushed and so fucking gorgeous. I love watching you come. You always turn my head so you can look me right in the eye and you get this look on your face. Like I just made you die and come right back again. That look is so hot, you have no idea. Enough to make me come myself, usually.”

"Mmh - It's because I always want you to watch - what you do to me..." Niall's voice was coming out in little breathy rasps, lilting unevenly.

"I love the thought of you touching yourself right now. While you're thinking about me. I think about you, too. First thing I wanna do when I see you is ride you... I want to ride you and make you lose your head."

"Kinda losing it right now. Wish I could see you and touch you." Niall gasped and let out a little, "Ohh..." He hadn't come yet but Zayn could tell he was close.

"Are you thinking about it?" Zayn asked him, voice low and husky. "Your cock inside me? I'm thinking about it. I want it so bad, you don't even know. Wanna feel nothing but you moving like you do, fucking me... Always feels so fucking good, you have no idea."

Niall made a choked sound. “I’m coming. Baby, I’m coming...” Then there was only the sound of his rapid shuddery breathing which eventually slowed down. Just as Zayn was getting closer and closer to the brink, stroking and rubbing himself.

Niall finally spoke half a minute later. “When I get home, I’m gonna ruin you and you’re gonna love every second of it.”

That sent Zayn right over the edge and he whispered Niall’s name once before his mind blanked and he forgot to breathe for the next five seconds. He turned his head into the pillow and lay like there for a few moments, completely spent now and quite ready to fall back asleep again actually.

“I needed that,” Niall said with a laugh. “ _Now_ I can sleep in. Listen, this has been nice but I’m gonna go…”

“Excuse me..” Zayn mumbled lazily. He would’ve laughed had he been able to work up the energy.

“Yes, you’re excused. That’s the whole point. Bye.” Niall snorted.

“You’re terrible.”

"Joking. I love you.”

It was kind of ridiculous just how much those words still made Zayn's heart skip a beat or two every single damn time. He was so gone for this guy and to be dead honest, it was the nicest thing he'd ever experienced in his short life. "Yeah, you better... Next time your dick starts twitching and you feel the need to disturb me, make sure it's at a decent hour, yeah? Like, not before noon." 

"Okay," Niall said with another snort. "Bye, babe. Have a good day."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> psst... Tony was briefly mentioned by Zayn's cousin in chapter 7 ;)


	13. Chapter 13

It wasn’t exactly ideal. But it was just a job. After running into Tony the week before, Zayn considered canceling the rest of the private tutoring sessions he had lined up with Lucy. But the truth was, he didn’t want to. She was a nice kid, sweet and a real laugh. And most importantly, eager to learn and grateful for Zayn’s help. He didn’t want to just bail on her. And to be honest, he needed all the money he could get. He wasn’t really in a position to be turning down jobs.

So, Zayn was there at the house the next Tuesday, on time and ready to help Lucy with her literary essay. He’d barely put his bag down in the dining room when she looked at him slyly and asked with a knowing smile, “What was the story with you and my uncle last week?”

Zayn took his time taking his notepad out of his bookbag. He sat down and poured himself a glass of water from the nearby jug before he finally answered. “Maybe you should ask your uncle, not your tutor.”

“I did. And he said it’s none of my business but that you were an old friend.”

Zayn nodded. Old friend. Yeah, let’s go with that. “Well, there you go. We knew each other in Bradford a few years ago. He had this really cool record store a few streets away from my house and I’d go there all the time.”

She wriggled her eyebrows up and down, and Zayn knew that nothing good was coming. “But it seemed like more than that,” she said. “He was really weird for the rest of the day. Like, he barely heard a word I said about my fight with my friend. And he was asking me all kinds of things about you. I didn’t have much to tell him, though.”

Zayn shook his head, pulling out a chair for her to sit on. “This is veering towards extremely inappropriate territory. Open your book and let’s get started. Show me what you’ve done with your essay so far.” He almost wanted to ask her what kinds of questions Tony was asking but he did’t want to encourage her. And he didn’t want to encourage Tony, either. All of that stuff in the past was long over, but it had taken Tony a while to accept that back then. After Zayn’s parents had made him break up with Tony, Zayn had been a little surprised to find that what he’d mostly felt was relief. Breaking up with Tony had been a relief. Things had been moving too fast, too soon.

“You’ve written… three lines?” Zayn asked Lucy, looking at the Word document she’d opened on her Mac.

She buried her head in her hands and even though Zayn didn’t know her very well, he already knew enough to know that she was being purposefully overdramatic. She wailed, “I don’t know what else to write. I don’t know what my teacher wants me to write. My last essay, I barely passed even though I tried really hard.”

“Okay.” Zayn fought the urge to laugh, not because he found her distress funny but because she reminded him so much of his sister. “Let’s answer the essay question verbally first, talk it through. Sometimes it’s easier for people to express their ideas through talking than through writing.”

So they did that for half an hour and Zayn kept having to steer the conversation back to her homework because she’d start rambling about other things. The remaining hour they started jotting down outlines for her essay paragraphs. Before Zayn knew it, it was almost 5 o’clock and Tony was greeting Lucy with a loud voice as he came in the front door, much like the week before. But what was different about this week was that Tony wasn’t alone this time.

When Tony peeked his head into the dining room doorway, there was a middle-aged man with him. Tony’s eyes found Zayn for a moment before he spoke. “Hey Luce… Hi Zayn. You two seem busy, glad to see I’m getting my money’s worth, don’t let us disturb you. Mark and I have some business to take care of in the study.”

“Uh, no, it’s alright. You’re not disturbing,” Zayn replied. He started shuffling his papers and pens into his book bag. “We were just finishing up. I was about to go.”

“In any case, we’ll get out of your hair.” Tony nodded and then disappeared in the direction of the stairs with his (friend? colleague? boyfriend?) Mark. With them out of sight, Zayn relaxed again and gave Lucy one last suggestion for her introductory paragraph. Then he figured it really was time to get going. Niall was still out of the country though so it wasn’t like Zayn had any real reason to hurry home. Nonetheless, he picked up his bag and carried his empty glass to the kitchen, and in there he took the time to rinse it underneath the tap.

“You always did have impeccable manners.” Zayn jumped and almost dropped the glass.

“Tony. Jesus. Scared the crap out of me.” Tony laughed and walked further into the kitchen.

“Just getting a drink for myself and Mark. Didn’t mean to scare you, sorry.” He stood with his back against the fridge and regarded Zayn up and down, head to toe, for a few seconds. Zayn took the time to look him over too. He looked like how Zayn remembered - bald head, attractive face, black frames covering his eyes and a lean tall body.

“How’ve you been, Zayn?”

“Good,” Zayn said truthfully. “Really good lately. How about you?”

“Good as well.” Tony was still staring. “Thanks for helping Lucy. She’s a bit of a handful but she’s a good kid. And she thinks you’re great.”

Zayn turned subtly towards the doorway, hoping that he was making it subliminally apparent that he wanted to make an exit. To Tony he said, “Well, I’m getting paid to help. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Hey, you still like music, right?”

What a question. “Um. Yeah, of course.”

“I don’t work in music anymore, I work in a media house now. But Mark - my friend - he does work in music. He’s a head A&R at an independent label. And he likes to get my opinion on some of the demos he’s considering sometimes.”

“Okay…” Zayn was wondering why he was being told all of this; what any of this had to do with him.

“I seem to recall you always had a good ear, too. Better than me, even.” Tony smiled fondly as he said this. “There’s a new girl group he’s considering. He’s got the demo up in my study and we’ve been taking a listen. Do you… I dunno, wanna join us for a minute and tell us what you think?”

“Oh. I don’t know, Tony,” Zayn said slowly. “I should probably get going.”

“No worries. I just thought… the girls sound pretty good, I think. Just thought you’d like to hear.” Tony turned to the fridge, opened it and started rummaging about in the back.

Zayn sighed. His musical curiosity was going to be the end of him. “Yeah, I want to listen, actually. Don’t really know much about girl groups but I do like a few.”

Tony turned back around with two Coke cans in hand. “C’mon, then.” Zayn followed him up the stairs to the study and stayed for almost half an hour listening to the 5 songs the girl group had recorded. The group was good but the girl with the most singing parts had a slightly sharp voice which bordered on grating if she attempted to sing too high and Zayn made sure to point this out. The group’s vocal chemistry was good though and their voices were all decent, ranging from average to very good.

This was what Zayn enjoyed more than anything - listening to raw undiscovered talent that hadn’t yet been jaded by over-production and record label boardroom politics. There were four girls in the group and Zayn told Mark and Tony that adding in a fifth girl, a deep alto, wouldn’t be a bad idea.

“Thank you, um, Zayn,” Mark said when Zayn eventually stood up to leave. “Thanks a bunch, mate. You’ve got a really good ear. You’re a teacher, right? This might sound crazy but you’d make a good A&R. Have you ever been interested in the music business? I mean, professionally... Not just a passing interest like most of the general public.” Zayn very nearly laughed out loud. If only they knew just how interested Zayn was. But he merely told them that music did interest him and he left it at that. He wished Mark good luck with his girl group and went to catch the Tube back to his flat.

============

Niall finally came home a week later and when he pitched up on Zayn’s doorstep straight from the airport with all his suitcases in tow, Zayn almost jumped on him. He was so happy to see him. Genuine happiness is such a rare thing, isn't it? It was like pure joy radiating deep from every cell of Zayn's body. Niall looked like Niall and he smelled like Niall and he laughed like Niall while he hugged Zayn close. Niall was back and Zayn had missed so many little things about him these past few weeks.

Niall was half dead on his feet, tired as hell but valiantly trying to stay awake. Zayn cooked chicken and basmati rice for him and they ate it with Harry in the living room. When Niall fell asleep in the middle of one of Harry’s long winding stories, Zayn laughingly ignored Harry’s offended pout and he dragged Niall to bed.

“I’m happy you’re back home,” Zayn whispered some time after they were under the covers and he was certain that Niall was asleep. His arms were already around Niall but he held him even closer. “Missed you so much.”

But Niall wasn’t quite asleep. He mumbled back, “I’m happy to be home….” Niall’s breathing evened out again and minutes later, he was a goner. Zayn took this time to bury his nose deep in the dark blonde locks at the back of Niall’s head (like a clingy weirdo, good thing Niall was asleep). Zayn let the familiar citrus scent tickling his nose gradually carry him into his own sleep.

============

“You’re a WAG, now… It’s your duty to go to these things. Stop complaining,” Harry told Zayn a few evenings later.

The two of them were in Zayn’s room while Zayn attempted to settle on something decent to wear to the big gala dinner Niall had invited him to. The annual UNICEF Gala was a huge charity event attended by sports stars and their significant others, aimed at raising money for health programs in developing countries.

“I’m not complaining. It’s a really good cause. I just - I know this is shallow but I’m running out of clothes to wear to these things,” Zayn said. His voice was sheepish because he was well aware that these charity events were to raise money for exactly the type of people who would probably love to have problems as manageable as Zayn’s. It was just that, “I only have one good suit. I should’ve listened to my Mum when she told me to buy more.”

“You can borrow one of mine.”

“Probably wouldn’t fit,” Zayn said carefully. That was a lie - Harry’s suits probably would fit. The problem was that Harry’s suits had stars and thick stripes and all sorts of weird stuff printed all over them. “And I’m not a fucking WAG. You do realize that stands for wives and girlfriends, right?”

“The term has evolved.”

In the end, Zayn did borrow something of Harry’s - a surprisingly nice lilac-coloured shirt that Zayn wore with his trusty black Topman suit. When Niall arrived to pick him up, Harry sent Zayn off with a pat on the cheek and, “My real life pretty WAG. Have fun.”

“You look nice,” Niall said when Zayn climbed into the passenger seat of the Jeep. “You always look good in a suit.”

Niall was great for Zayn’s ego, really.

Niall looked pretty ace himself, in a white jacket and black bowtie to match his black pants. During the drive to Old Trafford, Zayn told Niall all about the devilish terrors, aka Year Fours, that Zayn had been teaching that day at a school in the South.

“Those kids don’t know how good they’ve got it,” Niall remarked. He laughed, pretty teeth flashing in the semi dark of the night. “I wish I had teachers who looked like you when I was at school. I would’ve done anything they said. Would’ve done my homework on time every single day.”

“Doubtful. Greg told me you used to be a little terror yourself. Before football instilled some discipline in you.”

“That dirty little liar.” Niall looked over at Zayn and wrinkled his nose until Zayn laughed.

Their table at the packed Gala dinner was right near the front of the hall close to the bar and buffet. Wayne and Colleen Rooney were at the table as well as Niall’s teammates Alexis Sanchez, Glen Kamara and Louis Tomlinson. Niall had invited his assistant Sophia along too and she was there with her fiancé Liam. The evening was actually a lot of fun, much to Zayn’s surprise. Everybody at their table was a right laugh, even Louis. In the beginning, when Zayn had first started dating Niall, he used to get the distinct impression that Louis maybe didn’t like him. But lately Louis seemed to be coming around and that was important to Zayn because of course he wanted his boyfriend’s best mate to like him.

“I’m getting a little bit too drunk for this stuffy joint,” Liam remarked at one point as he downed his umpteenth glass of champagne. His tie had long since been loosened and he kept lamenting about how much this “party” really needed a dance floor.

“They’re gonna call Niall and me to go take some press photos in a few minutes, if my watch is right,” Louis said. “But after that, how about we ditch and go back to mine. I’ll put an extra 20k in the charity kitty to ease our guilt.”

 _Must be nice_ , Zayn thought idly. He never got jealous per se about how much money these guys had; he just frequently thought about how nice it must be to not have to worry about money.

Indeed, 15 minutes later, a press representative came and called the players away to take photos. “Significant others” were encouraged to go and take photos too but Zayn decided to opt out. Niall and Louis were gone for almost half an hour and in that time, Zayn and Liam got progressively tipsier and sillier. They began playing some dumb drinking game based on the number of red ties they could spot in the vast room. Liam pointed out that he himself was wearing a red tie, meaning that this red tie was always in his sight, and did this mean he could drink endlessly? Poor Sophia abandoned them not long after this to go talk to some of the wives she knew.

Louis and Niall eventually returned and they all made their way to their various cars to drive Totteridge where Louis lived. Zayn had no concept of how long it took to get there; his eyes were closed the entire drive and he had the nicest buzz going.

“Babe, we’re here. Open your eyes. My God, you cannot hold your your liquor. Shameful,” Niall said with a loud laugh as they pulled into Louis’ driveway.

“I’m not even drunk,” Zayn insisted. “Just nice and tipsy.”

“That’s what you always say.” Niall stopped the car and leaned over to kiss Zayn’s cheek indulgently. “Always tipsy, never wasted. On Isar’s birthday, you could barely walk at the end of the night and I had to physically carry you into bed but you still found the energy and coherence to remind me that you were merely tipsy not drunk.”

“That did not happen. Why don’t I remember that?”

Niall snorted. “I think the answer to that is obvious. Because you were sloshed out of your mind. I love drunk you.”

“Sloshed? You dirty little liar.” Zayn was very sure that Niall was exaggerating.

Later on, they were all sprawled across Louis’ garden on their backs, suits and all, sharing a couple of bottles of wine and watching the sky which looked awe-inspiringly beautiful to the drunken crew. Louis suddenly piped up, “You ready for your big _OK Magazine_ spread, Zayn? Got your pouty poses ready?”

Zayn tore his eyes away from the moon. He'd been trying to write a song about it in his head. “What?”

“Louis, shut up,” Niall interjected, sounding exasperated. “I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet.”

“Tell me what?”

Niall was lying next to Zayn on the grass and he turned his face to him, biting his lip. He was quiet for a bit before he leaned closer and said quietly to Zayn, “My agent came up with this idea the other week. And I wasn’t sure you would go for it. But I think it’s not a bad idea…”

“Okay… What is it exactly? OK magazine? You want to do a magazine story?”

Niall shook his head. “I want _us_ to do it. He says I need to keep my public profile up. Visibility. It’s important for endorsement deals and things."

"Oh. But, like... what does that have to do with me?"

"Well. I think it would be nice, a story about you and me. Apparently there’s nothing people like more than a good love story. They eat that stuff up and it does make for a nice article, instead of the sleazy ones the media usually print.”

“You want me to be in _OK Magazine_?” Zayn started laughing softly.

“Yeah, I mean... It doesn’t have to be _OK_ if you’re really opposed to them for whatever reason. But yeah, I would like to be in an article with you and be like to world: hey, here’s the man I love, isn’t he amazing? I think it would be nice if people know we’re together.”

The few other people at Louis’ were pretending not to eavesdrop but Zayn knew better. The silence around them was too thick and heavy with curiosity.

“Niall. Photos? Press? Not my thing.” Zayn whispered this in his ear so that hopefully the others couldn’t hear.

“Maybe it should be your thing.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, it wouldn’t hurt for you to get your face and your name out there, considering what profession you want to be in. You could meet people this way. The right people. You won’t meet those people by staying holed up in your flat and only hanging out with Harry and your cousin.”

“Are you saying I don’t have any friends?”

“No, course not. You have a close circle of friends. There’s nothing wrong with that,” Niall whispered back. “But it wouldn’t kill you to go outside of your comfort zone sometimes.”

Where was all of this coming from? Zayn felt a bit like he was being blind-sided. His voice had a hint of an edge when he said, “Just because you and Minky used to be in every weekly rag and had your lives plastered in all of print media for the whole world to see, doesn’t mean that’s how I want things to be. If you want another Minky, go get one.”

The silence around them seemed to get even thicker at this point and then Niall was on his feet, wordlessly pulling Zayn to his feet too by his hands. They walked into the house, a little unsteadily. He only spoke again when they were alone in Louis’ kitchen, sitting on top of the island in the middle. “I know everybody was acting like they weren’t listening but they’re all shit actors. Back to the issue at hand, though - how can you say I want another Minky? Why would you say something like that?” His brows were furrowed as he looked over at Zayn.

“I was just letting you know that if you want somebody who’s into all that media PR stuff, that’s not me.”

“Okay, then say that. Don’t throw my ex in my face just because you don’t like something I suggested. I brought up an idea and you have every right to say no, if you want. I don’t see why there was any need to throw in those snarky remarks about my life being plastered in the media.”

Zayn jumped down and walked over to the sink to pour himself a glass of water. He downed it. “I shouldn’t have said it like that,” he finally admitted.

“Okay. If you really don’t want to do it, it’s not like I’m gonna try to change your mind. I know you’re a private person and you like to keep certain things to yourself. It’s okay if you don’t want to be in a magazine - I just thought it might be fun. I thought we’d have a laugh and take cheesy pictures in my lounge and sneak in a dozen mentions of your producing.”

Zayn shook his head. That wasn’t his idea of fun.

“Okay,” Niall said again. Then he added just a little coolly (or maybe Zayn was imagining his tone), “Maybe I hoped you would think about it for longer than two seconds. But it’s fine.”

“Well, if I know immediately that I don’t want to do it, what is there to think about?”

Niall shrugged. He smiled wryly. “Like I said, fine. Stubborn since day one. At least you’re consistent.”

“Can we stop talking about this. I was actually having fun before…”

Niall nodded. He jumped down from the island, too. “Yeah. Sure, babe.” He walked back outside without looking back or waiting for Zayn.

Zayn stayed in the kitchen for a little while longer. He didn't want to be in some dumb magazine, that much he was absolutely certain. But he'd said a few things he shouldn’t have and he was regretting some of it already. This exchange between him and Niall hadn’t been an argument exactly, but Zayn knew that Niall wasn’t happy. And if Niall wasn’t happy, Zayn felt unsettled too. Zayn resolved to coax him back into a good mood once they got back to Niall's that night.

Liam walked into the kitchen right then. The smile he threw in Zayn’s direction was sweet but sloppy and his gait was a bit unsteady. "Hey, Zayn. Watcha doing? Erm... Hope I'm not interrupting. I did wait until one of you came back outside. Soph needs more ice."

"It's fine," Zayn assured him. "I was just drinking water and trying to sober up a bit... Was Niall, like, okay when you saw him outside?"

"Um.. I think so? I'm a bit shitfaced, though. Didn't really notice, sorry," Liam shrugged apologetically. He opened the fridge and started humming a Justin Timberlake song. Then he started crooning some of the lyrics in a smooth voice that sounded well good considering how intoxicated he was. Really good actually.

 

_Those flashing lights come from everywhere_

_The way they hit her I just stop and stare_

 

“Hey... What the hell. You can sing… Like, really sing.”

“What?” Liam blinked at him and laughed. “Oh, uh. Thanks.”

Zayn’s brain started going a mile a minute, already planning. “Listen. This might sound crazy but have you ever, like, sung on a track?"

 


	14. Chapter 14

After being stuck in a bit of a professional rut for so many months, slowly but steadily things started to pick up for Zayn. That’s often how it works, isn’t it?

It started with “finding” Liam, of course. Liam had been a little bemused, a little skeptical when Zayn had mentioned the two of them working on songs together. But he’d agreed after coming over to Zayn’s flat the next weekend with Sophia and listening to some of the stuff Zayn was working on. The two of them got to work immediately in the cramped spare room in Zayn’s flat and that first weekend, were able to lay down three tracks. It was a little awkward at first as Liam was very self-conscious behind the mic.

On the first few slow tracks they tried out, his singing was very bland and vanilla because he was hyper aware that his girlfriend as well as Harry and Zayn were all listening to his every note. But an hour into it, he seemed to forget them all and he got into the swing of things. What a swing it was. He was a _beast_ in the studio, his rising falsetto on bridges and choruses just as credible and captivating as his lower tone on verses. He didn’t have any formal training or experience at all but he seemed to make up for that with good musical instincts and an ear for melody. Different from every single other artist that Zayn had worked with, but good-different.

The other thing that happened a couple of weeks after all this was that Zayn was finally able to squeeze together enough money to afford three months rent for a studio room at The Farm in North London. He reckoned that three months would be sufficient time to really give it a go and hopefully succeed and _hopefully_ be able to pay for a few more months. One day at a time. The Farm was actually a five-studio building owned by Millennium Records, a small independent label. Zayn was able to get really good deal on the rental fee, thanks in large part to Tony. Thanks to Tony’s friend Mark actually, who worked as an A &R at the label.

The day Zayn was handed the keys to Studio 4, Niall, Harry, Isar and Zayn’s sister who was in town all showed up to the studio with champagne and samosas and they had a bit of a lame celebration.

It was really great, actually.

==============

 

Zayn’s parents travelled down to London one weekend in early December to attend a wedding of some family friend’s son and they made plans to meet up with Zayn for Sunday brunch before driving back to Bradford. On the Saturday night before, Zayn told Niall he wanted him to come along.

“Really?” A smile lit up Niall’s entire face. “You want me to meet your parents.” He put down his almost empty bottle of beer. The two of them were over at Liam’s, talking quietly to themselves in the living room while Liam and Sophia got more drinks from the kitchen.

“Yeah. I do,” Zayn said in response. “They’ve been nagging me for ages to bring you home for a weekend but your schedule is almost never free these days.”

Niall’s smile slipped a little. “What if they don’t like me?” He was legitimately biting his pinky nail and Zayn had only ever seen him do that a handful of times.

“Everybody likes you.”

“But what if they don’t,” Niall insisted and Zayn could tell he was trying to sound nonchalant. Zayn almost never got to see this side of him, this unsure side.

“They will. How could they not?” Zayn shrugged. He couldn’t imagine anybody not liking Niall. What was there not to like? Just this past week, Niall and Louis had been busy setting up an all expenses paid month-long training camp for bright young football players who would otherwise never be able to afford something like that. This was the Niall that Zayn knew inside out. The same guy who’d bought Zayn a now much-loved bull terrier puppy as a “congratulations on your new studio!” present. “It seemed right. A baby dog for my baby,” he’d said when he handed it over.

(The sad thing was that Zayn’s landlord didn’t allow pets. And Niall hadn’t know this before getting the dog, so Star stayed over at Niall’s. But she was Zayn’s and all three of them knew it. It just meant that Zayn spent even more time at Niall’s than usual.)

“Your Dad looks a little scary in all the pictures,” Niall remarked, bringing Zayn back to the present. “Big and tall and scary.”

Sophia and Liam wandered back into the living room carrying more beers and a jumbo-size packet of crisps. “What’s big and tall and scary? Unless Niall was talking about someone’s dick, in which case I don’t need to know,” Liam said with a laugh.

“Well, I’d like to know!” Sophia exclaimed. She sat down next to Niall on the other side of the sofa.

“No, no. Ew. We’re talking about my father,” Zayn said shaking his head. “And for the record, he’s not scary. He’s a right teddy bear.”

Niall seemed to relax a little after this and he actually seemed quite excited the next morning when they took a cab to Granary Square to meet Zayn’s parents. They found the Maliks already seated at a table in the middle of the café, looking tired but happy. Hugs and exuberant cheek kisses were exchanged while Niall stood a little to the side, surveying the scene with a smile.

“And you must be Niall,” Tricia said, turning to him after she’d gotten her fill of making sure her son was healthy and eating well and in one piece. Niall came over and confirmed, “I’m Niall. I’m very happy to meet you.” He reached out a hand to shake and Tricia waved it away, engulfing him in a quick hug. “We’ve heard so much about you, dear.”

“Well, we’ve read a lot,” Yaser piped up. He shook Niall’s hand very firmly and looked him square in the eye. It was a good thing that Niall didn’t look away. Zayn knew that Yaser would respect that.

Niall and Zayn took their seats opposite the Maliks. Yaser continued, “Zayn’s little sisters make sure to show us every single blurb about you two that’s ever been written. They nearly squealed the house down the day the first Daily Mail article happened.”

“Oh, God,” Zayn groaned. “They showed you that?” He was going to kill them; well, Waliyah at the very least. There had been plenty of kissing, whispering into ears, hands resting on butts, etc in those pictures, if Zayn remembered correctly. He and Niall had been completely and stupidly unaware of the cameras.

“Yes, they did.” Yaser looked at Zayn sternly for a moment before his face loosened into something like amusement. He took a long drink from his mug of coffee. Black, two sugars, no doubt. “It was a little surprising seeing you like that. But, you seemed happy.”

“Well. I am,” Zayn said simply. He looked over at Niall who scrunched his nose at him and grinned. The waitress came over and the group placed their orders.

When the waitress was gone, Tricia began telling them about the wedding they’d attended the day before. She always went on and on about weddings, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. With both Zayn and Doniyah unmarried, Tricia was itching for one of them to get on with it so that she could plan a big magnificent wedding herself. Zayn laughed and swiftly changed the subject when she began commenting that the groom had been “23 years old. A year younger than you, sunshine.”

“Trish, leave the boy alone. He’s too young to be thinking about all that.”

“I was just talking about the groom’s age. Don’t you all attack me,” she said innocently.

Yaser surprised them all with the question he directed at Niall next. “You’re young and enjoying life now, as you should. But do you plan on getting married one day? In general, I mean. Or are you one of those perpetual bachelor types we hear so much about when it comes to footballers?” There was nothing unkind or unpleasant in the way Yaser asked that.

But still. "Dad…”

“What? I’m just asking. I like to know what people’s intentions are. I’d ask you too but I already know the answer.”

“Well. Um,” Niall seemed to fumble for what to say for a moment. He cleared his throat and said, “I do. One day. I would like to settle down. Definitely don’t see myself as a 50 year old Casanova bachelor.”

“I’m sure you’ll have a lovely family one day,” Tricia said smiling warmly at Niall. “I miss Zayn and Dee so much since they left home. Family is everything, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is,” Niall agreed. He seemed very relieved that the marriage line of questioning was over and that made Zayn want to laugh a little. Niall fiddled with his fork on top of the tablecloth as he said, “I miss my parents a lot. They’re home in Ireland. But at least I have my brother and my niece. They’re my family here. And another baby is on the way! My brother’s wife is expecting a little boy. Can’t wait.”

“Oh, that’s lovely! Baby boys are the best. I’m looking forward to being a grandma one day and having little babies around again. I’ll get to spoil them rotten and it will be up to the parents to do the tedious disciplining.” Tricia turned her attention to Zayn. “I’ll give you another 5, 6 years before I start nagging about it. Deal?”

“Food’s coming,” Zayn announced loudly and unnecessarily when he spotted the waitress right then, making her way over to them with a groaning tray. Kids? Marriage? Poor Niall was being ambushed. Zayn wasn’t even sure why this was currently the topic of discussion. He wasn’t sure he wanted kids. In fact, he was almost certain he didn’t. The idea of marriage seemed nice, though. In an abstract ages-from-now kind of way. A husband, a couple of dogs. That was what Zayn saw for himself.

“You seem a good sort,” Yaser told Niall towards the end of the meal. It sounded like a stamp of approval. He added only a little jokingly, “The Arsenal thing is a shame but it’s not your fault.” Zayn had already told Niall that Yaser was a Manchester supporter so Niall just laughed graciously and said that he had really enjoyed meeting the two of them.

“Sorry about them,” Zayn said to Niall apologetically once the two of them were alone, in the cab heading back home. “I don’t even know what all of that was… I’ve never actually introduced them to anyone before so I didn’t know to expect an interrogation.”

Niall shook his head once, looking really happy actually. He tapped a few fingers across Zayn's knee. “It’s okay. I like them. They obviously think the sun shines out your arse and they want the best for you. For some reason, I can kinda relate.” He laughed softly and gave Zayn a peck along the jaw.

“They liked you, too. See, I told you. You had nothing to worry about.” Zayn put an arm around him and they leaned against the backseat, stuffed full and really quite happy with their lives.

 

=============

 

Getting back in touch with Tony had turned out to be a blessing is disguise. Not because of Tony himself. But because of his friend Mark. Mark would come into the studio at The Farm sometimes where Zayn would often times either be working with Liam or the 15 year old kid he’d found on Youtube. The producing and engineering fees that Zayn was currently charging his artists was almost next to nothing. He was working his way up, building his reputation. The plan was to sell his unattached songs and get his artists signed and then the money would come. This time around he wasn’t so naïve and he made sure to take Niall up on the offer of getting a solicitor to set up air-tight but fair contracts for any artist who recorded his music. He wasn’t ever going to get screwed over again.

It didn’t hurt that he now had Damien’s song on his CV, though. The lyrics and melody anyway, not the heavy production that had eventually happened to it. Damien’s reworked song had been a moderate UK and Ireland hit, peaking within the top 30 on the Official Chart, which was not too shabby for a newcomer. Zayn was a little happy that the song hadn’t been an outright hit though. He didn’t feel like backhanded behavior deserved to be rewarded.

Anyway, back to Mark. Mark worked at a relatively small label but he had numerous contacts in the music business and whenever he had any of these people around the area near the studio, he’d invite Zayn to join them for a cup of coffee or lunch. Zayn often agreed, which was not really like him. But the only reason he’d agree was because he’d hear Niall’s voice in his head, telling him to stop being a recluse, encouraging him to get out there and get his name out there.

Slowly but surely Zayn built up his own little black book of professional contacts and it made the world of difference. He actually had real live people to pass his demos to, instead of posting them on Soundcloud like he used to and hoping for the best. There was already a bit of buzz going about on the stuff Liam had recorded and Zayn didn’t want to get his hopes up prematurely again but it was all very exciting.

Mark was walking past the open doorway of Zayn’s studio one Sunday morning roughly a month and a half after Zayn had first moved in. Mark stopped for a moment, his dark head bowed as he tapped his toe and listened.

He stepped inside. “That’s Liam, right? Is this a new song?”

“Sort of. We recorded it a couple of weeks ago but I’ve been tweaking it since then,” Zayn answered. “What do you think?”

“Well, let me listen to the whole thing and I’ll tell you.” Mark plonked himself down into a chair and took off his leather jacket, revealing taut arm muscles covered in rich caramel brown skin.

Zayn restarted the song, _The One_ , and tried to occupy himself with browsing Twitter on his phone while Mark listened. Having people listen to something new of his always made Zayn a little nervous and he wondered if he would ever get over that.

“Zayn.”

“Hmmm?” Zayn looked up, a little startled because he’d maybe been busy reading ‘Niall Horan’ indirects. Oh God, Zayn was _that_ kind of boyfriend.

“Zayn,” Mark repeated. His eyes were a little wide. “This is insanely good. Best thing I’ve heard of yours. Liam sounds amazing and this song is nuts!”

“Yeah?” Zayn put his phone away. “I mean, I like it that much, too. It’s just cool that someone else agrees.” Zayn couldn’t stop grinning. Validation was always nice. Especially after you’d worked so hard.

“Listen, I want this song,” Mark stood up.

“What?”

“This song. The label will love it. I want Liam singing on it and I want you to produce it. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks, flip flopping about whether Liam would be right for the label… He’s a fireman at the moment, right?”

“Uh. Yeah. But he’s, like, pretty deep in the music thing now. I don’t think even he knew how much he would enjoy it.” Zayn’s eyebrows belatedly shot up as what Mark had said sunk in. “You want to take us on? Are you serious?”

“Dead serious. I need this song, man. I’m not even joking.”

Zayn laughed nonetheless, mostly from sheer disbelief and excitement. “Well, my answer is yes. Why don’t you set up a meeting with whoever needs to be there from your label and I’ll bring Liam. And a solicitor, if you don’t mind. Can’t wait to tell Liam. Dude’s gonna shit his pants.”

“I’ll set it up first thing tomorrow morning. Maybe we can do it on Tuesday.”

Zayn waited until Mark walked out before he did a dumb little jig dance that he hoped nobody would ever ever see.

===============

Zayn was getting ready to leave the studio a few hours later at around lunchtime, thinking about how he couldn’t wait to tell Niall the news, when he got a cryptic text from Niall himself.

 

**If you happen to read anything about me and Minky, it’s nothing. I’m still at training but I’ll explain in person? Love you.**

 

Zayn wrote back:  _What? Explain what exactly_

 

There was no reply.

Well, the thing to do was to go back on Twitter, right? Zayn went right to his trusty friend, the search function, but this time he typed in ‘Niall Minky’. He immediately saw links to an article in The Mirror. He clicked the link (obviously) and devoured it with quick wide eyes. The article started off by citing “inside sources” as saying the relationship between Niall and Minky was back on after the two had rekindled their romance during a night out in Bath. (There was no mention of Zayn at all, even though the same paper had printed pictures of Niall and Zayn at a celebrity basketball game just a week before.) The article also said that Niall and Minky had come to the realisation that they would always end up together and that their “love was inevitable.”

Ugh, barf. Realistically, Zayn knew the article was bullshit. He didn’t like it, but he knew it was bullshit. Media making up crap was unfortunately part of Niall’s life and to a much smaller extent by extension, it was Zayn’s life too now. This was the life where a few nasty trolls felt like they had the right to fill Niall’s indirects with nasty comments, where people in the supermarket stopped the two of them and took up Niall’s time for long minutes each, to the point where it took half an hour just to buy a carton of milk. This was their life and because Zayn loved him, he knew he had to put up with the not so nice stuff. And hey, it wasn’t like Zayn was perfect. Everybody comes with their own unique baggage.

When Niall came over to Zayn’s that night, Zayn said immediately as he opened the door to him, “There’s nothing to explain. The article, I mean. What a load of crap.”

Niall nodded and rolled his eyes. He slipped out of his shoes and left them by the door like he always did. He looked utterly exhausted and Zayn wondered why. Training didn’t usually leave him looking this tired. Niall went to sit on the green couch and said, “Yeah, it’s complete nonsense. But I do need to explain.”

“…Okay.” Zayn joined him on the couch and he waited while Niall twiddled his thumbs.

“The article wasn’t just made up. Well – it was. But it was planted. By our agents.”

Zayn's nose wrinkled in confusion. “Who is _our_?”

Niall rubbed at his eyes, looking exhausted again. “Um. Minky. I didn’t know until I saw it. I only found out today. Josh said he owes someone on Minky’s team a favour. She’s launching a clothing range at New Look in a few weeks and she could do with the extra press right now.”

Josh was Niall’s agent. He was an okay guy, if overly business orientated. He was always trying to convince Zayn to do organized press whenever they bumped into one another.

Zayn shrugged after a moment of silence. “It’s alright. Niall, why do you look so stressed? It’s just some stupid article. People will forget about it before lunchtime tomorrow.”

“I wish. They want to plant a few more. Bullshit articles hinting that me and her have gotten back together. Never actually getting a picture of us together. ‘ _Stir up some interest but don’t give them what they want yet.’_ That’s how Josh put it. And then the grand finale to all this crap, they want me to show up at her clothing launch.”

Um. “Okay, I’m definitely not on board with that part. You know that, right? And does Josh realise people aren’t stupid? Uh, I’m pretty sure even a 4 year old would see right through that stunt if you suddenly show up the day Minky needs to sell something.” Seriously, what was this?

“Yes, he knows. Press is press, according to him. This is just business for him. For a few weeks. But I’m not on board with it either,” Niall said, shaking his head. “I’m not gonna go to her fucking clothing launch or whatever. Are they all insane!”

“Tell them exactly that. That you’re not gonna do it.”

“Oh, trust me, I did. But I think they’re gonna publish the articles anyway. There’s not much I can do there. But at least I know beforehand, I guess." Niall groaned and leaned over to give Zayn a soft kiss just below his ear.  He murmured, “I’m sorry, babe. I know how much you hate all this stuff. I do, too. The games, anyway. I'm a footballer not some TV star."

Zayn did kind of hate this part of things. But it was getting easier to deal with over time. He pulled Niall into his lap and embraced him from behind. He felt the way Niall immediately sagged against him and seemed to relax. Zayn just held him for a while before eventually saying, “I don't care what they write. Because I know how it really is. I know it's you and me, yeah? _We_ know that. It doesn’t matter what other people read or think.”

Niall nodded some moments later. “You’re right.” He sounded a lot less bothered now. He settled into the embrace even more, the back of his head resting against the side of Zayn's face. Zayn was pretty sure his eyes were closed.

Zayn laughed. “Course I'm right. You say that like there was even a question..." 

 


	15. Chapter 15

Zayn had of course expected that Liam was going to be happy about Mark and his label being interested in the song, but Zayn hadn’t quite anticipated the way that Liam threw himself on top of Zayn and legitimately whooped, knocking them both onto the floor in the middle of Liam and Sophia’s living room in the East End. The guy was a little heavy and Zayn’s shoulder wouldn’t feel the same for a week or so but seeing how happy Liam was made it worth it. The two of them had grown pretty close from recording together and they’d found that they had a lot of interests and musical taste in common.

That had happened two days ago, Zayn going over to Liam and Sophia’s flat to break the good news. Today was the day of the meeting with the label that Mark had set up. Zayn was a little nervous, but even more than that, he was curious to see if Mark was really serious about this or if he was merely fucking around like most of the people Zayn had dealt with in the business. He wondered if he had any more room for disappointment left.

Zayn and Liam arrived at the label Polytune’s headquarters dressed in carefully chosen formal-casual attire (they’d decided that they wanted to be taken seriously but they also didn’t want to appear _too_ formal – it might make them too stuffy and uncreative). So they went there both in dark jeans, dress shirts and leather jackets; accompanied by Niall’s solicitor Andy. Mark was waiting for them in the meeting room with one other person, an older woman who appeared to be in her 40s. She was introduced as Sinitta, head A &R at Polytune.

“We don’t have to sign anything today,” Mark explained once there were all seated around the dark wooden roundtable in the middle of the room. “I thought it would be a good idea for us to just talk through what we’d want this deal to look like. So that it’s beneficial to all of us here.” He paused for a moment. “I see you’ve brought a solicitor, that’s good. I like to know I’m dealing with people who are serious.”

“Oh, they’re serious, alright,“ Andy piped up. He was known for his smooth facial expression that rarely ever wavered. “I would of course like to be there when the contracts are eventually drawn up.”

Sinitta cleared her throat at that point and looked around the room. Before this, she’d been picking at her nails looking vaguely bored. Now she said, “Can someone play me this song that Mark’s been raving about? He seems to be getting ahead of himself here, I agreed to this meeting because I trust his judgment and I’m curious to hear your music, Liam and Zayn. But a final decision will only be made once I hear this track.”

“Oh,” Zayn said. It wasn’t like he walked around carrying studio equipment in his pocket. He had the song of course, but only on his phone. Mark hadn’t indicated that they needed to bring anything to this meeting, although to be fair maybe Zayn should have anticipated it without being told. “Here, I have it on my phone. Sorry. The sound will be pretty shit and you won’t be able to hear it properly. But you’ll get the idea.” She raised a brow, and it was anybody’s guess what that gesture was supposed to mean.

He played the song for her from the tinny speakers on his Samsung phone, amid the tense silence in the room. She listened quietly, nodding her head occasionally, still picking at her nails. When it was finished, she stated simply, “It’s good. Yeah. I think it will work. It needs some vocal adjustments, of course.”

“Like what?” Liam asked cautiously. Zayn fully concurred with his cautiousness.

She peered at them over her glasses. “R&B doesn't sell, as I would expect you to know. I think we’d need to lean the production more towards alternative pop. Maybe get a girl on the track with you, make it a duet,” Sinitta said succinctly.

Zayn turned to look at Liam and it was obvious that they were both not entirely sure about where this was heading.

“Alternative pop?” Mark interjected. “With all due respect, I don’t think that will do this song any justice. And to say that R&B doesn’t sell anymore is grossly incorrect. The Weeknd would beg to differ. If it’s good R&B, fresh, current – there will be a market for it. That’s what this song is.”

“The Weeknd is the exception, not the rule. Name 3 other R&B artists you’ve seen setting the charts alight lately. I’ll wait,” Sinitta said coolly. She didn’t actually wait. “I know we are a small label but making money is still the objective here. And like I said, I do want the song. I just think it would do better in another format.”

“I don’t know if we want to do another format,” Zayn said. In fact, he was pretty sure they didn’t.

“Nothing has to be decided today,” Andy said after more uncomfortable silence followed in the room. “I think my clients will need a day or two to discuss things amongst ourselves and we’ll get back to you on the way forward.”

Zayn nodded and Liam put a thumb up.

“That seems fair,” Mark agreed. “We can meet again later this week.”

In the cab ride home (well back to Liam’s actually), Zayn wriggled his brows comically and said, “Well. That was interesting. What do you think? Alternative pop duet?”

“What does alternative pop even mean? I wanted to ask but I was genuinely scared her eyes would send daggers straight through my forehead.” Liam shook his head and started laughing, and a second later Zayn was laughing too.

“Fuck, mate,” Zayn remarked a little wheezingly. “She’s kinda scary, isn’t she? When she asked to hear the song, I froze. Rookie mistake. I should’ve brought it in a better format. Maybe that’s why she’s all on about alternative pop, she didn’t even hear how the song’s really supposed to sound.”

“Yeah maybe,” Liam agreed. “But she doesn’t seem to like our type of music at all, so maybe not.”

“We don’t have to decide today,” Zayn said, echoing Mark’s earlier words. “We can sleep on it and see what we wanna do next. Maybe set up another meeting just so she can hear the song how it’s meant to be heard. Whatever we decide, I want you to be on board. Those are your vocals and all the music we’ve done wouldn’t be the same without you, so it’s not just my music anymore.”

“We’re a bit of a duo, aren’t we? A dynamite musical package.” Liam said with a widening smile.

 Zayn nodded after a moment and echoed his smile. He hadn’t really thought of it that way but, “Yeah. Guess we are.”

 

===============

 

Their lives were so crazy busy lately that Zayn didn’t even get to explain the situation to Niall in the coming days. It was the pre-season period for Arsenal now, which meant that Niall was gone from 9am to at least 6pm on most days of the week getting ready for the new season. After a day spent running and spinning and doing strength training  (and that was only the morning session), that didn’t leave that much time for Niall’s social life. He always made time for Zayn though, even if it meant most evenings were spent resting on the couch together and watching some or other movie.

 Zayn missed him a little, even though he saw him every day. Maybe it was dumb of him to miss someone that was right there but he did. He missed waking up with Niall and spending all morning talking about the most random shit on earth, like the Illuminati or the latest memes on the internet or when they were particularly hungover, fake-deep shit like the meaning of life. Zayn missed Niall’s texts throughout the day, a lot. Zayn was busy as hell too though, so that made things a little easier. And Sammy, Zayn’s new dog, wasn’t a bad companion on those days that Niall wasn’t home. Zayn had only had her for a short while but he loved her almost like a child and it was hard to imagine what his days had been like before that furry mass of mischief and sweet eyes had entered his life.  

But she couldn’t replace Niall. Something funny or random would happen at the studio during the day and Zayn would immediately think: _I wanna text Niall and tell him._ But then he’d remember that Niall was most likely in the middle of the training pitch, working on fluid passing or something. But Niall loved his job. So that part made Zayn glad, too. No matter how excruciating training was, Niall still came home happy and with this beautiful bright fire in his eyes, like he couldn’t wait to get back out there and do it again the next day,

The two of them didn’t go out that much anymore during this pre-season, as in clubbing and parties, but they did still attend some of the industry events that Niall needed to go to from time to time. One such event a few days after Zayn and Liam met with Mark’s label was Soccer Aid, a huge celebrity charity football event at Old Trafford. For Soccer Aid, two star-studded squads of football players and high profile singers and actors would compete against each other to raise money for UNICEF. Niall had been looking forward to it for weeks. The giving back aspect of his job was one of the things he genuinely enjoyed the most.

Zayn was given prime seats right near the pitch of course, preferring not to spend today cooped up in a VIP box. He brought along Harry and Isar. He even brought Mark because they’d grown pretty friendly since Zayn had started renting studio space. All kinds of Brit celebrities were at the charity event - a few members of some X Factor boyband, Marvin Humes and his wife Rochelle, David Beckham with his son Romeo, Geri Halliwell, Jourdan Dunn. And those were just the few people Zayn could see in his near vicinity. The match got underway right on time, at noon, and Zayn settled back to watch his fit-as-hell boyfriend on the blue team kick the arses of the suckers on red team. It was about ten minutes into the game when something told him to turn around in his seat. Call it intuition, a funny feeling.

So he turned around, and what do you know – of all the people sitting directly behind him, it was that _girl._ Niall’s ex-girlfriend Minky, taking her seat and setting her bag down, having just arrived. Zayn must’ve made a funny sound or he must’ve jerked or something, because Harry next to him looked at him funny and then turned around too. “Heyy. Isn’t that?”

Minky, gorgeous dolled up Minky with her deep red hair and smoky gray eyes, looked caught off guard too when she eventually noticed them. Her eyes widened, and she looked straight at Zayn and said, “Oh my God. Zayn. I didn’t know you would be here. In that seat, I mean.“

“How do you know my name?”

“Oh, well.” She looked even more uncomfortable, if anything. “I mean, I’ve seen you a few times, in the papers and things. Shit. I didn’t think we’d be seated near each other. This must look so disrespectful to you.”

Zayn wasn’t liking the sound of any of this. “What did you think? You’d be here to watch Niall’s game and I’d never know? Was that the plan? I’m just trying to understand, here.” Isar, Mark and Harry were completely riveted to this conversation, a wide mouth slightly agape in Isar’s case, but Zayn ignored them all.

“Um,” she started quietly. She seemed pretty shy actually and Zayn hadn’t really been expecting that. She lowered her voice even more. “I don’t know if Niall told you about that deal our agents were trying to put together. But I’m just here to show my face and leave. I’m not trying to cause trouble. I – I care about Niall a lot, even though he doesn’t believe that anymore. I honestly wouldn’t want to upset him or you.”

Zayn nodded, feeling the tiniest bit sorry for her, to be honest. “Yeah, he told me. I thought that was only until your clothing range thing or whatever.” He ignored the part about her still caring about Niall.

“It is. It’s out in two weeks.” She laughed a little. “This is right mortifying. Like, he’s not my boyfriend, no matter how much I wish we - well, point being, he’s not with me, he’s with you.  You must think I’m an idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Zayn said slowly. “I just think that maybe you don’t need to do all this stuff – showing up at places where you obviously don’t wanna be. To get a few lines in The Sun. But honestly, what do I know?” He didn’t know anything about the entertainment business and Zayn wasn’t one to judge experiences that were not his. Okay maybe he used to judge a little - before this, he’d always assumed that people who got involved in PR games were sad and shallow, but really this person before him was just a normal girl who seemed nice enough, who maybe just wanted to make it in her chosen field. Zayn could identify with that part.

Hours later, when the charity match was over, and Niall and Zayn were over at Niall’s with everyone else for a bit of a wind-down after the busy day, Zayn told his boyfriend what had happened. He did it after Niall ditched everybody in the living room where drinks were being had and pulled Zayn into his bedroom for an impromptu making out session.

Mid-kiss on top of Niall’s bed, Zayn suddenly pulled back, stopping to search Niall's eyes. For some annoying reason Zayn couldn’t stop thinking about who had been in this very bed over the years. Zayn blurted out, “I met Minky today.” He watched Niall’s face closely for his reaction.

Niall looked surprised. Shocked, actually. He sat up in seconds and exclaimed, “ _What,_ where?”

“At the game, obviously, Niall,” Zayn said drily. “You had to know she was going to be there.”

Niall shook his head. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Josh might’ve mentioned it but I don’t remember him - I didn’t think she was going to be there. I would’ve given you a heads up.”

“Well, she was. In the seat right behind mine.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yeah, basically. We had the most awkward conversation ever and by the end of it, I almost felt like apologizing to _her._ Why didn’t you tell me she’s nice?” Zayn bit his lip, hoping it didn’t show on his face how unnerved he was. Zayn had made Minky out to be this cheating villain in his head before meeting her today, and now he really didn’t know what to do with this new information.

“Of course she’s nice.” Niall sounded exasperated, impatient. He brought his knees up to his chest. “I wouldn’t have dated her for a year if she wasn’t. I said she cheated on me, I said she cares too much about becoming famous… I never said she wasn’t a good person essentially.”

“Well, isn’t that… nice.” Zayn didn’t know why it bothered him that Niall thought she was a good person. Maybe because seeing her and Niall being linked together all the time was easier for Zayn to deal with when he’d been operating under the blissful assumption that she was just some bitch that Niall couldn’t stand anymore.

Niall looked at him for a moment and then he got this soft look on his face. “You know I love you, right?”

Zayn nodded. He mumbled, “Yeah, ‘course. Love you, too.”

“No, but – do you really get it,” Niall said seriously. “I am so in love with you. You drive me absolutely insane sometimes and hand on my heart, I wouldn’t have it any other way. You're everything I want and you get me and I don't know how to explain any of this properly but fuck, this is everything. I’ve never been happier. Ever.”

Zayn nodded again, his mood warming. “I do get it. Because I feel the same way.” Zayn smiled at him. “I’m just tired of the bull, I guess. And sick of my friends and family asking me when we broke up and why you’re back with your ex.” He pushed Niall back down onto the bed and cuddled into him, settling into the nooks and crannies of Niall’s body.

“What happened to _I don’t care what people write as long as I know you and me are together_? Your words.” Niall laughed a little.

“Brave naïve words spoken when I was young and innocent.”

Niall laughed even harder. “It was literally one week ago, Zayn… As much as I’d love to just lie here with you, alas. C’mon babe, let’s get up, we have guests. Can’t neglect them for too long.”

“ _You_ have guests. This is your house. I can stay here. They all know already that I’m rude and unsociable.”

Niall rolled his eyes like the fond long-suffering significant other he was and pulled Zayn to his feet.

=============

In a way, Zayn was saved from having to make a decision about Mark and Sinitta’s label. Saved because the decision was essentially made for him. And the reason it was made for him was because he got offered a deal four days after the meeting with Mark and Sinitta - an offer that only a fool would turn down.

 


	16. Chapter 16

Funny enough, this new turn of events was thanks to Mark yet again, although indirectly. Over the past few weeks since they’d met, Mark had introduced Zayn to a number of execs and other producers; and because of that, Zayn had built up quite a steady list of contacts. Nothing stayed a secret for long in the close-knit system that was the UK’s music industry and apparently word had gotten around that there was hot new singer with an even hotter song being shopped around. Zayn regularly sent his stuff out to labels hoping and praying that something would click and that of course included _The One,_ the song that Mark had shown interest in.

Sony UK wanted it, too. Just as it was. And that was really the reason why Zayn agreed. When one of their execs got in contact with Niall’s solicitor who was acting on behalf of Zayn, a number of whirlwind meetings were set up. Only a fool would pass this up, Zayn kept reminding himself.

The focus of course was on Liam, as the artist and Zayn was perfectly fine with that; Zayn was more than okay with working behind the scenes.

At first the two Sony execs had bounced around the idea of buying the song for a nice sum of money and giving it to another one of their artists, as their huge Summer comeback single. They’d also wanted to sign Zayn on to produce a minimum of two tracks for this artist’s album. But Zayn wouldn’t budge on one point – it was the song and Liam, or nothing. Package deal. Maybe not business-smart to insist on that, but Zayn was willing to bank on his new friend. What this whole week was proving to him was that if his product was good, there would be demand for it within labels – Zayn never needed to sell out or accept an offer he didn’t fully agree with. All good things would come with time.

But in the end, Sony agreed to a one song deal for Liam and the option to extend his contract if the single performed well, which Zayn thought was fair. And it wasn’t that Sony doubted Liam’s talent – they clearly saw how much he had to offer and said as much, they were just wary about how much careful promotion and well-placed money it took to break out new acts.

All of this happened in a matter of days – the brief contract was signed and an image consultant was hired for Liam. Zayn was booked into a bigger studio to reproduce the song with better equipment. The day that the contract was signed, Zayn realized that he still had one thing left to do – tell Mark. Zayn didn’t know how he would take it – he thought that maybe Mark would understand. But maybe not.

That night, he finally explained to Niall everything that had been going on with Sony and the smaller label. “I don’t know how I’m gonna tell him, Niall. But he’s still waiting for me and Liam’s decision, I think. So I need to do it soon. Tomorrow.”

Niall didn’t say anything for a good few moments after Zayn was finished explaining. Zayn was about to ask him if he was alright but then Niall said quietly, “Holy fuck, Zayn. You signed a deal with _Sony._ That is like, wow. I’m so happy for you but - this has been going on for the past few days? And you’re only even mentioning it right now. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Oh. Zayn had meant to tell him. But they’d kept missing each other these past couple of days. Zayn had been sleeping at the studio, spurred on by relentless adrenaline and drive. And ideas! So many ideas. There was so many things he wanted to try out, he really hoped that Sony would trust him and give him free reign.

Zayn looked contrite as he said to his boyfriend, “We’ve both been so busy. I kept wanting to tell you in person but then I never saw you in person. I feel like such a twat right now but I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“It’s just weird, y’know. This is major. Life changing. If something like that happened to me, you’d probably be the first person I’d call. You didn’t call at all.” Niall shrugged and looked towards his feet. They were sitting on Zayn’s couch.

Zayn felt so shit in that moment, looking at Niall’s face. The truth was that he hadn’t really been thinking these past few days – thinking about anything past music and labels, that is. He’d been running on little sleep, coffee, pure unfiltered excitement and the wild possibility that maybe, just maybe, his dreams were finally coming true. He’d wanted so much to share it all with Niall, but not over a 5 minute phone call. He’d kept telling himself that he’d find time to go tell Niall in person.

“Niall… I’m sorry. I should’ve told you right away.”

“But you didn’t,” Niall said, voice softly frosty now.

Zayn didn’t know what to say. He should’ve called at the very least and he hadn’t. He sighed. “I’m really sorry.”

Niall shrugged again. After a moment, he said, “So you haven’t told Mark yet…”

“Yeah. I’m really dreading that conversation.”

“But you’ve already signed something with Sony.” Niall’s tone had a strange undercurrent to it.

“Yes. Today.” Zayn quirked a brow in his direction, confused because they’d already been over this.

“You really don’t see the irony here?” Niall shook his head and then covered his mouth as he started laughing. It didn’t sound like a happy laugh at all. It sounded… disbelieving.

“If you have something to say, why don’t you just say it,” Zayn suggested, irritated now too. He really couldn’t see what there was to laugh about.

Niall turned to him. “You promised your song to another label, had meetings with them and everything. Then a few days later you signed with another label, without telling the first one. You are not fucking stupid, Zayn. Do you not see the irony? None at all?”

Zayn stopped breathing for a second. But then, he shook his head adamantly. No. No way. This was nothing like _that_. “This is nothing like what happened with Damien. I can’t believe you’d say that.”

“How can I not say it. And how can you sit there and tell me it’s nothing like that, when the situation is so similar it’s frightening.”

“I didn’t promise Mark anything!” Zayn yelled. Niall barely flinched, merely looking back at Zayn like he didn’t quite recognize him. Zayn swallowed and continued more calmly, “At our meeting, we agreed that me and Liam would go back and think about if we wanted to take things forward, in the way Sinitta wanted. We all left that meeting knowing that me and him might come back and say no thanks.”

“Fine. No agreement was made,” Niall agreed solemnly. “But Mark was the one to take you under his wing, introduce you to people, get you a great deal on a studio. Isn’t he your _friend_? Don’t you think you owed it to him to tell him you didn’t want to go ahead with your deal? Before running to Sony?”

“Are you trying to make me feel like shit right now? Because it’s working.” Zayn knew that Niall had a point. Mark had helped Zayn in so many ways. But yet again, Zayn hadn’t been thinking. Or maybe it was more that he hadn’t wanted to think – he hadn’t wanted to stop for five seconds and think about Mark and let that guilt set it. He was an avoider.

“You should feel like shit, Zayn. I don’t know what’s going on with you but you owe that man the hugest apology.” Niall stood up a moment later. He scratched at the side of his face, eyes darting to the side like he didn’t know where to look. “Um. I think I’m gonna sleep at my place tonight. So… I’m gonna head out.”

“What, why?” In all the tiffs and spats they’d had since they’d started seeing each other, nobody had ever been upset enough to actually walk out and leave.

“I just feel like being in my own bed. And I don’t really know what to make of you and this Sony business. I probably just need to get some sleep. By myself.” He bent down to the coffee table to pick up his car keys. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Zayn still didn’t actually believe that he was leaving until the front door closed behind him.

===========

 

Niall did call him, not the next day, but two days after that and they attempted to have a normal conversation that night over the phone, like nothing had ever happened. But Niall was a little distant for a good while after that incident.

Mark had taken the news surprisingly well, saying that he understood because he hadn’t really been on board with the alternative pop direction either. Mark said that he’d heard from a friend within Sony about the Sony deal and he’d just been waiting for Zayn to fess up. Zayn still felt like absolute shit though because the more he thought about it (every day), the more he knew he hadn’t handled the situation in a way he could be proud of.

Zayn spent most of his time that week in Sony's studios, night and day. Not because he had to but because he still didn’t know how to right things with Niall. So it was easier to avoid him. Things between them were just uncomfortable enough that Zayn could feel it but not quite uncomfortable enough that he felt he could bring it up and try to talk it through. Niall was busy with training, Zayn was busy with his music and gearing towards the eventual release of Liam’s single.

It almost felt simpler to just pretend that everything was fine between the two of them, and to live on the hope that when their schedules stopped being so crazy, they’d be able to get back in sync again.

That hope changed when Zayn saw the Daily Mirror article on Saturday. His sister Waliyah had this annoying habit of tweeting Zayn every single link of every single article where Niall or Zayn were mentioned. He’d been forced to tell her that the Minky stuff in the papers was bullshit because she’d been growing increasingly upset and confused. This Saturday, she tweeted him a link and added just one word to the tweet: “Um”

And this time, it was nothing like that time with the Spanish girlband; this time there wasn’t anything to misinterpret. The article showed that Niall had attended Minky’s clothing launch for New Look the day before, the very same launch he’d sworn to Zayn he wanted nothing to do with. Niall had definitely been there, as shown by dozens of photographs. Dressed to the nines, smiling impeccably for the cameras.

Zayn called him immediately, fuming.

“Hey, babe,” Niall answered, completely oblivious. “I’m almost there. Got delayed. I’m at Tesco. Harry asked me to get him some milk."

“Maybe you shouldn’t bother coming. What the fuck, Niall. What the actual fuck. You said you weren’t going to that thing.”

There was an intake of breath and then a weary sigh. Followed by a soft, “ _Shit_.”

“Shit? You’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“Uh. Yeah, I went. Changed my mind. Thought it wouldn’t hurt to just show my face. It was such a small thing for me to do, nothing really, but it seemed like it meant a lot to her.” Niall sighed again.

“And what, you thought I wouldn’t find out?”

“I thought it wasn’t a big deal. I went with a few of my teammates and we literally only decided a couple of hours before that we were even gonna go. It’s not a big deal.”

Zayn begged to differ. And to be fully honest, he couldn’t believe the nerve. “It's a big deal. Even if you don't think so, it is to me. I specifically remember telling you that I understand the newspaper stuff is out of your control. I get that. But I told you I wasn’t okay with you going to these fucking bogus events because _that_ is in your fucking control! It’s like you _want_ to be linked with her. And why do you even give a shit what means a lot to her and what doesn’t?!”

“I don’t. Zayn, will you calm down. I was just saying that it wasn’t a big deal to me but she seemed to appreciate us all showing up. I mean c’mon, where is the harm?”

Zayn laughed briefly, darkly. “You really don’t care that this bothers me, huh? You keep talking about the fact that it’s not a big deal to _you,_ and you’re ignoring the fact that I’m telling you point blank this doesn't sit right with me. You actually don’t care?"

“Of course I care. I’m just trying to explain what happened and why it happened.”

Zayn heard rustling sounds and he assumed that Niall was now getting back into his car. Zayn waited for a few seconds to let him get settled before continuing, “In the hours between you deciding you were going and you actually pitching up there, it didn’t occur to you that maybe you should tell your boyfriend you’ve changed your mind about things and have now decided to go support your ex?”

“What? Like you told me about your deal with Sony?”

Niall might as well have slapped Zayn across the face. Zayn nodded slowly as that sad sad feeling (about the two of them) that had been lurking the whole week, finally settled deep in his chest. “So, that’s what this is about. Payback. You’re getting back at me even though I apologized a dozen times.”

“No. Jesus Christ. How petty do you think I am?” Niall snapped. “This isn’t payback. The only reason you think it’s payback is because you know you did a bad thing there and you still feel guilty about it. That’s not my fucking problem.”

“How can you say it’s only my guilt here when you’re the one who just threw that whole situation back in my face less than 20 seconds ago. You brought it up. You’re the one who’s not over it. And instead of telling me what the problem is, you’re just distant and moody and unavailable! You _are_ petty. What do you expect me to do?”

“I expect you to care about me like I care about you.”

“How is it that I did _one_ thing that wasn’t so great and suddenly everything I do, everything I feel is being called into question? How is that fair?” Zayn questioned angrily.

“Actions speak louder than words. You didn’t even think of me when the one thing you’ve wanted since childhood happened – “

That wasn’t true. It really wasn’t. “You’re the first person I thought of! Just because I was stupid and didn’t call doesn’t mean I wasn’t – “

But Niall wasn’t done. “I offered so many times to help you with your producing. I wanted to help so much. That’s all I wanted. But you said no every single time. Funny how you were much more willing to accept Mark’s help. Not funny at all, actually.”

“That is _so_ unfair. How can you – “

“You take people for granted, Zayn,” Niall stated plainly. “And I guess throughout your life, you’ve gotten away with it because you’re you. You’re – you. So people forgive you even when they really shouldn’t, even when they know they should sit you down and call you out. I don't know why I'm saying people when I really mean me. You take me for granted because you know I love you. That’s why you didn’t call. That’s why you yelled at me every time I tried to help you but you jumped at the next offer someone else gave you.”

Zayn’s heart had started beating pretty fast as he listened to Niall talk. Niall sounded so done, so resolute, like he'd been thinking about this stuff for quite a while. More than anything, Zayn was confused and legitimately couldn't understand why he was being attacked. “I don’t take you for granted. I’ve never taken you for granted. You offered me money, Mark offered me a studio and a chance to meet the people I needed to. How can you compare the two? And I’ve already apologized for not calling! What else is there left to say?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know, babe.”

They were quiet for almost a full minute. Zayn spoke up first. “I can’t... I can't deal with this right now, Niall. I’ve got enough to think about. Liam’s single and all the shit label politics that come with that. I feel like I’m balancing a million things at once and I really can’t add you being pissed at me to the list. I just need you to chill. Please.”

“Liam’s song and the label is what’s important to you, then? Who gives a fuck about your little boyfriend who’ll always be there, right?” Niall sounded angry again.

“Chill the fuck out. Seriously. You’re starting something over nothing and – and I don’t have the time or energy for this!”

There was a long silence. “You don’t have time. Well, that choice of words is telling.”

“I’m just being honest. I can’t do this – right now.”

“When can you slot me in?” Niall asked acerbically. He gulped in a huge intake of air. “Y’know what, fine. It's suddenly occurred to me that I can’t do this right now, either. So I’m not coming over. I’ll talk to you when I talk to you.”

“Oh. Real mature. You’ll talk to me when you talk to me? Or we can just not do this at all. We don’t have to talk at all!”

“Is that your roundabout Zayn Malik way of breaking up with me?”

How had the conversation turned this ugly? The beginnings of a monster headache could be felt in Zayn's forehead and he retorted angrily, “Why would you even jump to that!” He forced himself to calm down, forced himself to breath evenly again. He said in a more measured voice, “Like I said, I can’t do this. And you wanna know something? If you truly cared about me and everything I've been trying to do practically my whole life... If you knew how important this time is for me, you wouldn’t be trying to stress me out with bullshit.”

“You’re right,” Niall murmured. “You’re right. You have important things to do and you’re about to have everything you’ve ever wanted. I want that for you too and I certainly don’t want to get in the way. So let me remove myself from this equation and remove all this stress for you.”

“You’re twisting my fucking words again. Twisting everything. If you want to create problems where there are none and you want to remove yourself from so-called equations, you really didn’t need to go through all this convoluted trouble! You could’ve just fucking come out and said!”

Niall laughed. “You’re unbelievable. You’re the one who has no time and who sees working through this relationship as some tiresome bother that’s only taking you away from better things you could be doing. You’re the one who wants to remove himself. But you’re too much of a coward to actually come out and say it!”

“Maybe I’m not too much of a coward,” Zayn said, proper riled up again. “I don't want to fight with you. Maybe we do need a break. Let’s just hang up. There’s nothing left to say that we’ll be proud of ourselves for later.”

"I'm not even trying to fight, I'm trying to tell you how I feel! We should be happier than ever right now with everything that's going on but all I can think about is - Look, I'm beyond happy for you about everything but it's like... It's like it took all of one offer from Sony for you to start doing and saying things I know the old you wouldn't even like. I wonder what will happen when things really start going your way."

Zayn couldn't believe that Niall was saying these things. Why was he purposefully trying to make things difficult, right when Zayn needed his support more than ever?  "I fucked up once and all I'm getting from this conversation is that you want me to pay forever. You've already decided in your warped head that I'm a certain way now because of that one thing I did. I don't see why I should have to waste my breath trying to change your mind. I'm hanging up."

“You obviously couldn't be bothered. If you hang up - if we hang up... that's it. Just making sure we both agree on that, too.”

 …. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Zayn shook his head. “Okay.”

Zayn swallowed hard a couple of times, suddenly consumed by a feeling of panic. How had the conversation reached this point? How was it that he and the man he loved (still loved even up to this moment) were speaking like this towards each other? All he could remember about the conversation was Minky and pettiness and Mark and Sony, but none of it was making any sense right now. He hadn’t been lying when he'd said he didn't have enough mental and emotional reserves left to deal with this, he literally felt like his head was about to explode. So maybe, maybe this was for the best. Maybe they really did need a time out.

Niall hung up.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Zayn didn’t really understand what had just happened. They’d just broken up? They’d just broken up. And over what? Zayn almost laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation. But then the more he sat there with his phone is his hand and the more he went over that whole conversation in his head, the more he became angry all over again. Some of the things Niall had said had been completely uncalled for – saying that Zayn had changed, that Zayn took him for granted, that Zayn only cared about his music and nothing else. All of that was completely unfounded. And really fucking unfair, actually.

 _Fuck him,_ Zayn decided, working himself further and further into an indignant fury. What Zayn needed right now was a partner, somebody supportive – and if Niall couldn’t put aside his own _completely unfounded_ issues for just one week to allow Zayn to concentrate on his career with a clear head, then _fuck him._ Zayn did not need this shit.

It was early Saturday evening at this point and Niall had been meant to come over so they could go out for supper, but now Zayn figured those plans were pretty much shot – definitely shot, actually. As Niall had said: _if you hang up, if we hang up… that’s it._ Harry was out working at the pub, Liam and Sophia were visiting his parents in Wolverhampton. Zayn didn’t feel like moping around the flat tonight; his anger was already withering away and being replaced by something a lot more sadder, something that hurt a lot as he tried to figure out exactly what he’d done over the course of their relationship to make Niall think all those things. Zayn knew that if he stayed inside this flat, he would give in within the hour and call Niall.

He needed to get out of this flat. Go somewhere else and think about something else. He could go to the studio and put in some work but he didn’t even feel like doing that right now. He didn’t exactly have a huge black book filled with friends to call up, though. But he did have one new person he'd been hanging out with quite a bit over the past few weeks. And even better, that new friend wasn’t friends with Niall. So Zayn wouldn’t be forced to talk about Niall and answer questions about where Niall was today. Plus, Zayn was still feeling a little guilty where this person was concerned so maybe a night out to make sure that everything was fine between them, was exactly what Zayn needed.

Zayn texted Mark immediately before he could talk himself out of it or overthink it:

_Hey. You doing anything tonight? Feel like going out for a drink with a mate? I reckon I owe you one, to be honest._

The response came twenty minutes later:

**Hey! Z this is a surprise. You initiating social interaction? Haha. Actually I’m headed to a party tonight, come with! Out in Nottinghill. Pick you up in an hour?**

That sounded like a plan. Zayn could get blitzed drunk among strangers and forget all about the face of his boyfriend – ex-boyfriend? – that was currently infiltrating every inch of Zayn’s thoughts and driving him insane. So Zayn agreed to go to the party and an hour later had him at some Syco exec’s 32nd birthday party at a duplex in Nottinghill.

Zayn had always imagined that 30 year olds would have pretty stuffy parties but apparently that didn’t apply to people in the music industry. This wasn’t unlike a uni party, except maybe the alcohol was a little more expensive and the drugs a little more clean. Zayn and Mark arrived together but Zayn soon lost him somewhere in the crowd, after Mark stopped to talk to a female singer whose name eluded Zayn no matter how much he tried to remember it. He knew that she had been on the X Factor though and had come pretty close to winning, so she was probably signed to Syco now. Zayn left Mark to it, laughing a little as Mark tried to sweet-talk the pretty girl into a dance.

Zayn made a beeline for the constructed bar that had obviously been hired for the party. A minute later, he was downing a vodka and orange. He didn’t even really stop to taste it. He just wanted it to numb some of the tension he was feeling. Not long later, he was on to his next and his next. He wished he had Liam with right now, nobody was a better drinking buddy. He wished he had anybody to talk to actually, because now that the alcohol was loosening his body and his inhibitions, his thoughts were becoming looser too. He needed to rant to somebody, make them agree that Niall Horan was indeed an unfair selfish fucker of a boyfriend and that Zayn was better off without him. It was pathetically tragic though that the only person Zayn really wanted to be talking to right now was Niall himself.

Zayn needed another drink. He switched to rum and Coke this time and took refuge one on of the couches when one of its inhabitants took off. He was quite content to sit there and nod his head to the music and get progressively tipsier and tipsier. It occurred to Zayn that if he were here, Niall would be laughing fondly at Zayn right now, saying something like, “If you’re merely tipsy, then my name is Margaret Mary Dawson. You’re drunk, babe. Why do you always fight it?” Zayn missed him. The room suddenly felt too big or maybe too small, too tight – all Zayn knew was that he felt very alone and removed from the rowdiness all around him.

Now more than ever, Zayn wanted to call him, hear his voice and apologise a million times. Zayn checked his phone, hoping to see a text at least from Niall but there was absolutely nothing. Niall had sounded so over everything on the phone, so sure that things were a certain way. Zayn had never heard him sound like that before. They’d had fights before of course, but never over anything serious – never about how they felt about each other, never about whether this relationship should continue or not.

“Zayn.”

Zayn looked up blearily and found that it was a little hard to get his eyes to focus. But they did after a while. Zayn saw a familiar attractive tall man, with a bald shaved head and fashionable dark frames over his eyes. Zayn used to love to fool around and try those glasses on, years ago. Although realistically, the frames Zayn was looking at right now probably weren’t the same ones Zayn used to play with. Zayn shook his head to clear it. _Focus, Zayn. Focus._ “Tony.”

Tony. Zayn’s ex, Mark’s friend. Tony smiled at him. “Hey. I thought that was you. You alright?” Tony sat down next to Zayn on the couch, peering at him with something like concern.

“Yeah… I’m good. Just lost in my own head… You know me.”

"I do, don’t I? I see your fondness for Rum and Coke hasn’t abated. I remember you used to always down that stuff at my house because you were too young to drink it anywhere else.”

Zayn laughed shortly. “Mmm. Good times.”

“You alright, though? Can I get you some water or anything? Or maybe a walk outside for a few minutes? You can’t sit here all night and just drink your weight in rum.” Tony laughed to show he was only joking.

“I can and I will,” Zayn joked back half-heartedly.

“I hear you’re doing really well for yourself these past few weeks,” Tony said after a short lull in the conversation. “Lucy misses you a lot. Had to get her another tutor. She’s doing pretty good though.”

“I miss tutoring her, too,” Zayn answered honestly. It was weird, he didn’t really miss the teaching aspect of things – as in sitting there at a desk or standing in front of the class while relaying information. But he did miss the kids themselves, he missed talking to them and hearing their thoughts on things. Kids were little tyrants sometimes but they were also hilarious and refreshingly honest. “Tell her I s-said hello,” Zayn said after a moment. He might have burped right then.

“I will. I can relate to her, y’know,” Tony said. He shook his head for a moment and laughed, almost appearing unsure of himself. “I can relate to the missing you part. And it’s easier to tell you this because I’m looking into your eyes right now and I know you’re well on your way to plastered…”

“Tony…” Of all the conversations Zayn wanted to be having right now, this one would probably be dead last on his list. What he wanted was a drink. Or maybe a smoke.

“You don’t have to say anything. I don’t want you to. I just wanted to tell you that. I mean, your parents came home that day and they were so pissed I genuinely thought your Dad was going to kill me. I wasn’t allowed to see you again after that day. And I do understood where they were coming from. But that didn’t mean I didn’t miss you. You don’t just forget your feelings for someone. Even if you’re told those feelings are wrong.” Tony bit his lip and looked away for a moment.

“It’s been years…” Zayn started with difficulty. “What – what is the point of telling me this now?” It was true that he hadn’t been allowed to see Tony at all when his parents had caught them – they’d shipped him off to London to live with his aunt for a year. And Zayn had been quite relieved; it had been a fresh start for him. An excuse to start over without feeling like he owed Tony something. He’d felt the intensity of Tony’s feelings even way back then and it had scared him a little – not because Tony was scary but because it was a lot of pressure to feel like you were responsible for a grown man’s happiness.

Tony smiled at Zayn’s question though. “I’m telling you because you’re here. And I’m here. When else will I be able to tell you? Like I said, you don’t have to say anything. In fact, it won’t be a bad thing if you remember none of this tomorrow.” Then he leaned over and did something he really shouldn’t have; he leaned in and brushed his lips over Zayn’s for the briefest of moments before murmuring, “You’re still so fucking beautiful.”

Despite himself, that compliment warmed Zayn, made him feel less alone in this big crowded room of strangers. Tony was familiar. Harmless. And a good kisser, which was maybe exactly what Zayn needed right now. Zayn blotted out every single thought in his head that was telling him that maybe it was time to stop. The booze wasn’t really helping him to forget about _him_. So maybe, _this_ would. Zayn closed his eyes and was the one to bring his lips to Tony’s this time, more firmly than Tony had done it. Zayn tried to ignore the way Tony’s lips didn’t quite feel right against his. Tony’s lips weren’t quite soft enough and they didn’t fit over Zayn’s like they were meant to.

But still, just that contact in itself was nice in that moment – as strange as the touch felt, it was also familiar. Zayn was immediately taken back to being a clueless 17 year old, in awe of this worldly 28 year old, exploring his body for the first time and discovering just how good some things could feel. Zayn concentrated on those memories as they kissed and kissed. That made it easier, made this feel a lot less alien. And sure enough, in time, the kissing started to feel good. Zayn didn’t know how long they did it for but after some time he was being pulled to his feet, and then he was being guided across the room, up the stairs and into the one empty bathroom. Zayn went along with it, mind strangely blank. He really couldn’t think of a good reason why he shouldn’t be doing this right now.

Tony had him pinned to the bathroom wall nearest to the sink and he touched his tongue to Zayn’s neck for a moment before murmuring gruffly, “I’ve changed my mind. I definitely want you to remember this.”

Zayn didn’t know if he wanted to remember this. He didn’t want to think past this party, actually. He was drunk and now he was vaguely horny. And here the two of them were. Zayn kissed him again to shut him up and he barely registered Tony reaching down between them to pull down the zip on Zayn’s jeans. Tony pulled back and then suddenly dropped to his knees and worked Zayn’s jeans down past his thighs and legs to pool at his feet. “I want to make you remember how good it was.”

Zayn did remember how good it had been with Tony. It had been good but nothing spectacular. Zayn hadn’t actually discovered spectacular until… Fuck. Zayn didn’t want to think about _him._ He just wanted to feel good, even if just for a moment. So he looked down and watched as Tony guided Zayn’s dick into his mouth. And then Zayn just closed his eyes. Tony sucked him within an inch of his life, so thoroughly and so eagerly that Zayn was squirming despite himself. He couldn’t bring himself to thread a hand into Tony’s hair to guide him along; he couldn’t quite bring himself to touch him at all. It was just easier to close his eyes and not really see who was between his legs. It did feel good though and Zayn hadn’t had sex in over a week, so when he came with a defeated groan ten minutes into it into Tony’s mouth, it was well overdue.

Tony wiped his mouth and smiled up at him. “I always loved doing that. I would really love for you to return the favour…”

Zayn didn’t say anything for a moment, merely shook his head gently and pulled his pants up. He felt disgusted with himself and surprisingly sober suddenly. Here he was standing in some strange bathroom with an ex-boyfriend who was currently on his knees - it was disgusting. When his zip was up, he said, “Um. I should go... I’m - My head is so fucked up right now. I shouldn’t’ve come to this party.”

Tony stopped smiling, his entire face fell. “Got what you wanted, huh?” Said a little bitterly but with a laugh to try and take the edge off. Tony rose to his feet and went over to the sink to rinse his mouth. He turned back around eventually, and folded his arms.

Zayn watched him for a second, not really knowing what to say. All Zayn knew was that this had been a mistake, and he wanted to go home. “Sorry. I didn't mean to – I have to go.” Zayn hesitated for a moment wondering if he should kiss Tony goodbye on the cheek or something but instead he just headed towards the doorway.

“Yeah, go… Maybe on your way downstairs you can get someone to bend you over and eat you out just how you used to like. You get what you want and you go, right?”

Zayn stopped dead just past the door and spat out, “Nobody made you suck my dick. Just like nobody made you kiss me.” With that, he made his way down the stairs and out of the house where he sat by the road and called for an Uber on the app. Zayn felt so shit, beyond the physical queasiness of alcohol effects. He felt shit because this entire day was so fucked up and he truly wished he could wake up and start it all over.

A lot like that phone conversation with Niall that Zayn couldn’t now explain, he wouldn’t be able to explain to anybody exactly how his cock had ended up in Tony’s mouth.

========

The Uber came to pick him up and as Zayn got inside and finally relaxed and leaned back against the seat, he found he had to actively try very hard not to cry. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so terrible, head to toe. He checked his phone messages, stupidly hoping to see a new text from a certain someone but there was absolutely nothing. Zayn fiddled on the keypad, composing and deleting message after message - he didn't know what he wanted to say to Niall. He just knew he wanted to talk to him.

The Uber dropped Zayn right outside the door of his building and Zayn made his way towards his flat, his gait probably really unsteady. He just wanted his bed and he wanted to forget about this entire day. He wanted to wake up and find that none of it had actually happened. It was only 11pm so Harry was probably out somewhere with a friend, like he often did after his shifts at the bar. Zayn was glad for his absence – he didn’t feel like talking to anybody or explaining where he’d been.

Zayn gulped down a glass of water in the kitchen before blearily making his way to his bedroom. He stopped when he got to the doorway. The lights were on his room.

And there was Niall on the bed, awake and playing on his phone. Waiting for him.

Niall looked up and said one word, “Baby.”

That little word broke Zayn’s heart into two and he walked over to the bed before crawling into Niall’s arms and burying his head on his chest. Niall held him so tight and said, “Hey... Been waiting for you. Figured you were out somewhere.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve come home right away.”

“The last time we talked on the phone, things got so royally fucked up, I don’t even know. I didn’t want to call again. I just wanted to wait for you. Zayn, I’m sorry. For the things I said. I don’t want to break up.” His voice cracked and he squeezed Zayn again. “How could I want that?”

“I don’t want that either,” Zayn whispered. And then the tears he’d been holding back in the Uber couldn’t be contained anymore. He hurriedly wiped his hand across his face.

“Hey,” Niall said gently. He rolled them over so that Zayn was on his back. Niall bent down and kissed his wet cheek then his mouth. Zayn almost flinched because he was reminded of what he’d done that night. Niall kissed his other cheek and asked, “What’s with the tears? Is it all that rum I smell on you? You’re always such a sappy drunk.” Niall giggled a little and it only made Zayn want to cry some more.

Niall told him, “I love you. Everything’s going to be okay. We both just got a little hotheaded for a moment and we said stupid things. Do you forgive me?”

“I love you,” was all Zayn could manage, because Niall wasn't the one who needed to be forgiven.

“I’m sorry for implying you don’t.” Niall got quiet for a moment, brushing a thumb along Zayn’s jaw. “I got scared, I guess. When you didn’t tell me everything that’s been going on in your life. It felt like I wasn’t important enough for you to think of when things happen… I always think of you. Like yesterday, my niece was telling me this lame joke about buffalos and orange juice and I kept thinking about how I needed to remember it correctly because I knew you’d find it funny.” Niall laughed again. “It’s a really bad joke. Right up your alley.”

“I do think of you. I love you so much, Niall. Please believe that.” There were those tears again. Zayn couldn’t stop them. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. Had Zayn been thinking about Niall while he had his dick down Tony’s throat?

Niall looked concerned again as he touched his lips to Zayn’s forehead. “Baby. Why do you keep crying? This isn’t like you. Are you that upset with me? I’m sorry.”

Zayn felt one hundred times worse. He couldn’t lie to Niall. Well he could, very easily. But he didn't want to; Niall was too important to him. A thing like this, if Zayn didn't tell Niall himself, Niall might find out for himself down the line in a much worse way. Zayn needed to get this out because he owed Niall that much. “It’s not you. It’s me. I- I did something. Tonight.” Zayn felt the way Niall stilled immediately, like he already knew what Zayn meant.

“What did you do?” Niall asked carefully.

“I  - Fuck, I don’t know how to make you understand –“ Zayn closed his eyes and decided to just get it over with because there was no way on earth to explain this in a way that would make it okay. Zayn looked up into Niall’s wary eyes and confessed his sins in a clumsy alcohol-drenched rush, “I went to a party. With Mark. I had too much - to drink.  Rum, vodka. Can’t even remember how many I had. Then. Tony – my ex - was –“

Niall stiffened again and actually sat up, moved away to listen.

Zayn gulped and tried again, “Tony came over to where I was sat. We were both drinking and talking and then he kissed me… And then I kissed him back – I thought we were broken up, Niall. I thought you were so mad at me.” Zayn waited for Niall to say something but he said nothing. Niall looked like he wanted to cry himself now.

Zayn finished lamely, “So then we went upstairs and did… some stuff.”

“You did some stuff?” Niall finally spoke and his voice so cold. “What does that mean? You did some drugs? He fucked you in some bed? What does that _mean_?”

“We didn’t fuck.” Zayn had to whisper his next words because he was so so ashamed, “He gave me a blowjob. And that’s it. I left and came home.”

“Well. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“What?”

“You let your ex suck your dick. I’m asking you if you enjoyed it, if it was worth it!” The true extent of Niall’s fury was only coming out in waves and ebbs. Zayn had a feeling he was only seeing the beginning.

“No. I’m sorry,” Zayn said. He sat up too and ignored the way the whole room spun. “It wasn’t worth it at all. I don’t know why I did it. Afterwards, I could only think about how much I wanted to go home, how much I wished we hadn’t fought. And how much I wished you didn’t want to break up. It wasn't - I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry? That doesn’t mean anything right now. How could you do that?” Niall shook his head and climbed off the bed before whirling around to face Zayn again. There was that fury, no longer masked at all. “How could you? I obviously mean nothing to you. After our fight, I felt like... like I was going crazy. I was just sitting there in my car, trying to imagine what my life would be like if we really broke up. I couldn’t do it. I literally couldn’t fathom what I would do without you! How pathetic is that. And _you."_ Niall paused and it was deadly. “You. Went out, managed to jump right into the arms of your ex of all people, well done! You stuck your tongue in his mouth and you let him touch you. I can’t even look at you right now!”

“I’m sorry,” Zayn said again. “Please, you have to believe me. I wasn’t thinking straight. I fucked up so bad but please don’t look at me like that, like you want nothing to do with me.”

“I’m looking at you this way because this is how I feel. I don’t want anything to do with you. You didn’t even _try_ to fix things between us when you assumed we were over. Your first course of action was to go get your dick wet! Why should I bother anymore?” Niall asked. “Why would anyone in their right mind bother anymore?”

“Of course I wanted to fix things. I didn’t go to that party for Tony, for anybody. I – I didn’t. I was just so upset about you and me, and I wanted to get drunk for one night and not have to think about any of it.” Zayn was trying so hard to explain but he had an idea he was doing a shit job.

Niall nodded slowly but it looked mocking not agreeing. “You don’t want to think about it? Well, you’ll be happy to hear you never have to think about me again. I’m done. Well and truly done in a way I never thought I would be when it came to you. But I am.” Niall bent down to pull his trainers on while Zayn desperately tried to think of something to say to make him stay. There was absolutely nothing Zayn could say. But he still tried.

Zayn slid off the bed too and went to stand in front of Niall. He didn’t mean for it to happen at all but another soppy fat tear slid down his cheek again as he looked into Niall’s stony face. “I’m  _sorry_. Niall, I'm so sorry. I know what I did is unforgivable but can you try? Please? Forgive me.”

“No,” Niall stated incredulously. His face crumbled for a split second before it became coldly composed again. “I don’t forgive you and I won’t. I'm done. I’ve never meant anything more in my life. Don’t call me, don’t text me. Just forget I exist altogether.” Niall reached into his pocket and got out his house keys. He took off the single key to this flat that Zayn had given him and he threw it onto the floor. “Where’s mine?”

“Your what?” This all felt like the most horrible of horrible nightmares.

“My key! The one I gave you for my house.”

Numbly, Zayn pointed to his leather jacket at the foot of his bed. Niall found the keys and took the one he wanted.

Niall didn’t say another word. He didn’t even bother looking at Zayn, just walked out.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

Niall walked out of Zayn’s bedroom and Zayn followed right behind him, head spinning both from alcohol and horror. “Niall, please. Wait.”

Niall didn’t stop, he carried on walking furiously down the hallway and into the living room.

Zayn caught up with him and tried again, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Niall. Don’t go - I know you’re mad and you have every right to be. But – just, don’t go. If you just let me explain –“

Niall whirled around. “What is there to explain? There’s nothing you can say to make this okay. I’m looking at you right now and I can’t stop thinking about you with - I need to leave.”

Zayn thought about this for a moment. “But will you come back?” Maybe things would be okay; maybe he just needed to give Niall some space for a few hours.

“No,” Niall shook his head and he looked really angry again. “I gave you your key back for a reason. I won’t be needing it anymore.” He turned on his heel, towards the door but Zayn grabbed a hold of his arm before he got too far away.

“You can’t just check out like this. We’ve had a shitty week, I know. We keep butting heads and it’s like we can’t seem to get back in sync. I know a lot of that is my fault and I’m so sorry for what I did at that party,” Zayn gulped and loosed his hold on Niall’s arm, squeezing it gently this time. “But we can’t break up. Niall, this is crazy. This is you and me here. Yell at me, curse at me, deny me sex for a month, do whatever you need to but please don’t leave.”

“We can’t break up?” Niall mimicked. He looked outraged. “That’s not what you were saying a few hours ago on the phone. You seemed to be of the view that we can. You found it so easy to forget about me at that stupid fucking party. I guess I need to follow your lead and forget you too.”

“I didn’t forget you,” Zayn said immediately, shaking his head. He’d tried to explain this already but obviously he was doing a shitty job. "Maybe I was trying to. Maybe I thought I needed to forget you. It was so so stupid of me to do that. He was there and I was drunk and sad and then we kissed and I wanted to stop thinking about the reason why I was so sad and he was just - _familiar_ and I’m so fucking sorry, Niall, please forgive me.“ Zayn became aware that he was rambling as Niall just looked back at him, unmoved. Zayn stopped and took a deep breath. “I didn’t forget you. How could I? You - You’re not only my boyfriend, you’re my best friend. In a different way from H. You're the best thing I have, more than the music, more than anything. Please. Don't go."

Niall’s eyes filled with tears as Zayn plead his case, something that Zayn had never ever witnessed before in all their months together. Zayn was standing so close to him that he could see the moment those tears happened and it made him feel like the worst human being to ever walk the face of the earth. Niall looked to the side and said in a tight voice, “You were pretty willing to let it go, this supposed best thing in your life. You didn’t fight for me, you didn’t come after me like I came here for you! Like I’ve already told you, there’s nothing you can say to make any of this okay. There’s – there’s nothing to say. I’m really fucking pissed off and I _really_ don’t want to even look at you. I need to go.”

Zayn couldn’t just accept that. Maybe he should have starting fighting for Niall a few hours earlier than right now, but that didn’t mean that Zayn was just going to let him walk out now. “I know you’re mad – but in the bigger scheme of things – I wish you’d forgive me. I didn’t fuck him. I barely touched him. I don’t want anybody else. I didn’t mean what I said on the phone earlier, I didn’t want a break, I didn’t want to break up – I should’ve listened to what you wanted to talk about. We wouldn’t be here right now if I – if I’d just told you then that I love you and that I’m here even when you get on my nerves and I get on yours and that I know that things haven’t been perfect lately but that it doesn’t even matter because that’s what relationships are about. Ups and downs. I think we got a bit of a shock because this past year it’s mostly been ups – so many wonderful ups – and then all of a sudden we started fighting about pretty serious shit.”

Zayn was rambling again. Shit. He looked into Niall’s eyes for a few moments to anchor himself. “What I’m trying to say. Even if you didn’t come over here tonight, I wasn’t just going to let you go like that. I would’ve come to you myself tomorrow and told you what I did and begged for your forgiveness like I’m doing now. I swear on my life. Please. Forgive me.”

Niall’s eyes weren’t just filled with tears at this point, one or two streaks were making their way down his cheeks. He brushed a hand across his face, looking towards the door then back at Zayn. “It’s ridiculous that I’m even considering it for a second right now. Forgiving you. It’s fucking ridiculous. But I’ll be so mad at myself if I just say okay right now. I can’t do it. I don't want to, actually. I don't forgive you. I was cheated on before and right now I just feel like you're taking me right back there again. Words are just words and we both know how you have a way with them. Every time I look at you, I think about... I need some time to think. I can barely even think straight about what I should do or say to you. I’m going to go. Can you just let me go please?” He said it almost desperately.

Zayn said in a quiet voice, “Okay, you can go if you want to. But I’m going to call you tomorrow until you pick up.”

Niall sighed, looking pained. He turned towards the door without another word, opened it and disappeared from sight.

================

Zayn woke up the next morning, stone cold sober and completely miserable, and at an hour that was rather early for him. 8 am. The first thing he did was feel around for his phone on the bed before he located it. He wasn’t expecting any message from Niall to be awaiting him and he was right not to expect anything. There was nothing except a whatsapp message from Zayn’s mum.

Zayn sent Niall a text shortly after 9:

**Yesterday feels like the most horrible dream. But I know it’s not. My head hurts like a mofo and I really wish you were here. You’d be stroking my hair and teasing me for not being able to handle my alcohol.**

Zayn waited but there was no response. Not surprising, really. He sent another one ten minutes later:

**If I could redo yesterday, I would. It’s frustrating because I know exactly what I would do and say. But I can’t. Can’t go back. It happened and I just really hope you realise how sorry I am and how much you mean to me. I’ll call you later?**

This time there was a response. A curt one:

_Please don’t call. It’s only been a few hours. I need space._

There was nothing for Zayn to do but respect his wishes. For now at least. He ended up staying in bed the whole day, even when he was no longer even remotely sleepy. He and Niall had been meant to go out that day for brunch at Niall’s brother’s house, but Zayn safely assumed that he was no longer invited.

Sometime during the day, Harry slipped into Zayn’s room and crawled into bed beside him, refusing to leave until Zayn explained what was wrong. When Zayn told him what had happened, Harry just seemed shocked. “Zayn. Tony? Why would you?”

“I don’t know. But now Niall won’t talk to me and I don’t know if he ever will. I really think he might break up with me. Maybe he already did actually, he took back his key to his house,” Zayn mumbled miserably into his pillow.

Harry sighed and pulled at a strand of Zayn's hair, a longstanding gesture of support and comfort between the two of them. “Well, he must be hurt. Probably doesn’t know how to take this. I know I never saw this coming. You guys are – were – _are_ that annoying couple. Annoying because you’re perfect for each other.” Harry rubbed Zayn’s shoulder a few times. “Zayn, don’t be too hard on yourself. I mean, it’s not actually a train smash, the more I think about it. Tony sucked your weenie. That’s it. You didn’t spend a night with him and fuck him 40 different ways. Give Niall some time and then try to talk to him again.”

“That’s the general plan,” Zayn said.

“Good. Everything will be fine.” Harry squeezed him briefly from the side. “You guys... you have it figured out. You’ll figure this out, too.”

Zayn nodded even though he wasn’t really sure anymore. All he wanted was to be able to talk to Niall and he didn’t know when that option was going to be available. If that option was going to be available at all. It sucked, majorly. To put it lightly.

Harry left the bed some minutes later to go get ready for dinner with his sister and Zayn was left alone. By himself, Zayn only had his thoughts to keep him company and those thoughts weren’t particularly comforting. He missed Niall.

The two of them were stronger than some ex boyfriend, stronger than Zayn’s mistake. Niall had to see that. Zayn wasn’t sure what he’d do if Niall stayed away for good.

Zayn got up once from his bed that day to get himself a glass of water but other than that, he didn’t emerge from his room until the next morning.

========

Over the week that followed, Zayn tried to call a number of times but the calls would either get rejected or ignored. With nothing left to do, Zayn sent Niall random texts throughout the day, about anything and everything, every day.

**Remember when we went to the Alps? it was the second morning I think. We stayed in bed like the whole day and you told me all about Mullingar and your friends and family back home. I think about that day a lot. First time I really got to know who you are. Perfect day.**

 

**My mum asked about you on the phone yesterday. I said you were fine and you said hello :( I didn’t know how to even begin to explain**

**Liam’s song is done now! it gets sent to radio in two weeks time. I’m excited but at the same time I can’t be as happy as I should be. I miss you x**

**Ha ha I just found your purple sock! The one we couldn’t find the other time. It was in between two pairs of my jeans, of all places**

**I wrote something for you today. Did a demo and was gonna give it to Liam to record it properly but I couldn’t in the end. Maybe I can play it for you soon though and you can pretend my shoddy vocals sound good like you always do :)**

**I’m probably annoying you so much with all these texts and at this point I don’t even know if you’re reading them. I think you are though. I love you.**

**Saw you on TV last night. I’m sorry about your loss. You did great though, in my very biased opinion.**

On Sunday evening, one week after they’d last seen each other, Zayn finally decided to suck it up and stop trying to make headway via his cellphone. This obviously wasn’t working. Zayn put on his coat and jumped into a very costly cab to take him to Niall’s house in Hertfordshire. He needed to talk to Niall and if that meant ambushing him and forcing him into a face-to-face meeting, so be it. When the cab arrived outside of Niall’s house, Zayn phoned him but as usual there was no answer. Niall was definitely home though; the lights were on in some rooms.

Zayn was forced to send yet another text message. He didn’t think he’d ever texted so much before in his life, as during this week.

**I’m right outside your gate. The cab is about to leave but I’m just going to sit on the side of the road until you let me in so….**

Half a minute later, the electric gate swung open and Zayn nearly sprinted past it, lest Niall change his mind and close it again. Zayn walked up the driveway, heart beating so fast now. He stood outside the front door, hand raised to knock on it but it opened before he could. Zayn caught sight of Niall standing in front of him but three seconds later Zayn’s vision was obscured by a big flurry mass that jumped onto Zayn and knocked him to the ground.

Zayn laughed and threw his arms around his dog, right there on the floor. “Hi, Sammy! Hi, baby. Missed you, girl. You been a good girl while I was gone?” She responded by licking his face until it was sopping wet and generally crowding Zayn so that he could barely move.

“She missed you.” Niall. It seemed like so long since Zayn had heard his voice that he actually stopped breathing for a second. Zayn partially sat up and wiped his face while Niall elaborated, “By Wednesday she was sitting by the door for hours, looking unnecessarily sad and abandoned.”

Zayn kissed Sammy’s fur as he listened and he gave her an extra squeeze. He walked Sammy into the house and Niall closed the front door and just stood there for a moment, looking at Zayn. Niall was dressed in black sweatpants and a thick red jumper, and his hair was wet like he’d just come out of the shower. He looked so good and so gorgeous. And Zayn, just _loved_ him. That was the only thought he could really concentrate on in that moment. Zayn asked, “How are you?”

“Been better. What are you doing here?"

Zayn swallowed. "I came to talk to you. I know you're still angry at me but I was hoping we could talk about this. I'm not just gonna give up and fuck off."

"You've been doing plenty of talking this week. Did I really need to know that you accidentally put Harry's favourite pink shirt in the wash with all the darks and that some lady on the Tube smelled exactly like Christmas mince pies?" Niall's tone was so difficult to decipher right now. It wasn't angry like the last time they'd spoken but it wasn't exactly overly welcoming either. 

Zayn's cheeks felt like they were on fire; he _knew_ that he'd been sending highly random texts all weeks but he hadn't known what else to do to keep the line of communication open. Even if it was a one way line right now. "I guess... I just wanted to stay in touch and keep you in my life and have you know everything that's going on... Maybe I ran out of content somewhere along the way."

"Maybe. The thing is, I was waiting,” Niall said, quietly now and it sounded almost... warm. Almost. And that surprised Zayn so much that he didn’t know what to say next.

A second later, Zayn settled on, “Waiting? What do you mean?”

Niall shrugged and slipped his hands in his pockets. “You’re an idiot. I wanted you to stop fucking texting me fifty times a day and just come over here and say whatever you need to say.”

Zayn floundered again for a moment. He took a step closer. “I thought you wanted space. I thought you’d chase me off if I dared come and I didn’t want that. I’ve already fucked up enough, I wanted to respect your wishes. But today… I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“I did want space. The first couple of days. But then, I didn’t.” Niall shrugged once more.

“I’m so. So sorry for what I did,” Zayn started saying, throat tight and lump already forming. He stopped and cleared his throat before trying again, “I’m sorry. This week was so shit. The absolute worst. And I more than deserved it. I'm an idiot. Being apart from you is so hard and I could barely do it. But the worst part is that I know I deserve to feel this miserable."

Niall looked back at him impassively but at least Niall wasn't cursing or asking him to leave. So Zayn puffed out a breath of air and just kept talking, heart pounding with sheer nerves over how important this was. "I know asking you to just forgive me is asking for a lot. I wouldn't blame you if you told me to fuck off. I wouldn't blame you, but it would hurt like hell. So I'm praying that you won't throw me out. I love you, Niall. I did something so stupid because I wasn't thinking, I didn't want to think. About the fact that maybe we were over. About some of the things we said to each other. I shouldn't have gone to that party at all, I should've gone and found you wherever you were and talked to you and made things right. I'll never do anything that stupid again. I mean that more than anything. Give me a chance. Please."

Niall didn't say anything. Zayn swallowed, figuring he had no dignity left to lose at this point, and added, "Please. Niall, please. Tell me what I can do. I need you so much." Silence followed for a few moments after that and Zayn was sure he was about to be kicked out. But then Niall’s arms slowly slipped around Zayn’s waist and it was like a huge weight was immediately lifted off of Zayn’s chest. Zayn edged closer and closer to his boyfriend, and Niall’s embrace became tighter and tighter.

“I need you, too,” Niall whispered finally with a sigh, leaning their foreheads together. 

The relief was remarkable. “Missed you so much.”

“That Tony stuff… Never pull that shit again. I swear to God, Zayn...”

“I won’t,” Zayn promised, and he’d never meant anything more. His face nuzzled into the space between Niall’s neck and his shoulder and he pressed his lips to Niall’s bare skin for a moment. “I'm sorry. I won’t. Fuck, like, I swear on my life."

Niall nodded at that and he looked at Zayn for a second before tipping forward to press their lips together. There was nothing gentle about the kiss at all; it was possessive as hell, greedy, needy. It was almost like a smidgen of Niall’s anger still remained and it was up to Zayn to reassure him and make sure that all traces of that unease disappeared. Niall kissed him and kissed him until Zayn felt lightheaded. They were still standing in the area right by the front door, with Sammy circling around them curiously.

Zayn eventually pulled back and then gave Niall the gentlest kiss on the forehead but then a second after that, his mouth was attached to Niall’s neck… tongue and lips nipping at the skin there. Niall smelled liked that Brazilian Nut body wash he loved so much and Zayn honest to God wanted to lick him all over and make him squirm and moan and writhe. Zayn wanted to show him just how much he’d missed him.

Eyes locked on Zayns’s, Niall’s hand slipped under the back of Zayn’s jumper before sliding right back down to the waistband of Zayn’s jeans. He stopped right there though and Zayn almost screamed from frustration.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Niall announced idly against Zayn’s cheek, tone nonchalant like he was announcing he was going to bed or something.  His hand slipped past Zayn’s jeans to squeeze one bum cheek, again and again. His breathing picked up, indicating that maybe he wasn’t so nonchalant after all. “I’m going to fuck you like I’ve been wanting to do all week. Make you really feel it – Don’t worry, I'll do it just how you like it.” He laughed and it sounded fond.

Zayn was far from worried; he was turned on, almost embarrassingly so. He wanted it however which way Niall was going to give it to him. He looked around where they were, then grabbed Niall’s hand and led him to the nearest comfortable horizontal surface – the long couch in Niall’s "chill room slash study slash record room" a few meters from the front door. Zayn immediately made a beeline for the couch, tossing his jumper off over his head. He settled on his back, eyes never leaving Niall who was slowly walking closer with his hands on his hips.

Niall finally reached him and straddled him, hands stroking the hot skin on Zayn’s waist. Niall bent his head and kissed Zayn on his bare chest, just above one nipple. He swirled around that one nipple with his tongue and Zayn reached for him, sighing in want and threading his hands into Niall’s hair. But Niall took firm grasp of Zayn’s hands and held them above his head, pinning him down and smiling. His tongue slipped inside Zayn’s mouth and the kiss was possessive like before, hot, completely inhibited, full of intent and meaning. Niall meant business and he further proved that when he murmured against Zayn’s mouth, “I want you right now. Now.”

Zayn had already been half hard up to that point but those words tipped him right over to rock hard and he shifted his hips a little to jostle Niall who was on top of him to try to get some friction down there. He nodded and watched as Niall climbed off of him and whipped his sweatpants off. Zayn used this time to hurriedly pull down his own jeans and throw them to the side.  He lay back down on his side and reached a hand up to beckon Niall towards him.

But Niall merely looked down at him, head titled to the side as he eyed Zayn’s hard-on with a gleam in his eye. “Babe. I think I want you standing up, actually. Come here.” He grabbed Zayn’s outstretched hands and pulled him to his feet. Zayn was expecting Niall to bend him over on the table or something. But Niall suddenly dropped down to his knees and took Zayn’s cock into his mouth, all the way to the back of his throat. Zayn nearly lost his footing, nearly toppled right back onto the couch. It already felt so good, so fucking perfect, everything about it - the wet heat of Niall’s mouth, the way Niall’s blue eyes looked up at him the whole time, the way Niall would lick around the tip then all the way down then back up again (seemingly ignoring the choked sounds Zayn was making).

When Zayn’s legs started shaking, Niall gripped his thighs to keep him steady. The whole time he just kept sucking and it was almost too much… Zayn didn’t want to come yet but he really felt like he might and it had barely been two minutes. He closed his eyes, thinking that it would take the edge off if he wasn’t looking down into those beautiful eyes – but all that did was allow him to really concentrate on the sensation of what Niall was doing. His legs couldn’t sustain him anymore and he really did fall back onto the couch, onto his back.

Niall barely paused, following him and resuming what he had been doing. When Niall held Zayn’s dick right at the back of his throat and hummed, and slipped two fingers in between Zayn’s butt cheeks, Zayn let out a desperate, “Oh God… _fuck._ ” and proceeded to come just like that, legs shaking, blood rushing past his ears.

Zayn had barely had time to recover before Niall was telling him to turn over onto his stomach. Niall covered him and entered him from behind and Zayn could feel how much he was trying to keep it together. He could tell by Niall’s labored breathing against the back of Zayn’s neck, by the way Niall was gripping Zayn’s shoulder just a little too tight as he pounded into him. Niall wasn’t being gentle at all and it was what Zayn wanted; he wanted to feel it, he wanted to be reminded of this moment for days to come.

Niall sounded absolutely wrecked, kept muttering about how good Zayn felt and how much he’d missed him.

He bit down on Zayn’s shoulder when he came, hard, muffling himself. Niall’s head fell forward onto the back of Zayn's and Zayn was pretty sure he heard Niall mutter, “Fuck Tony." Zayn chanced a laugh and a second later he heard Niall's raspy laugh too.

 


	19. Chapter 19

“You literally look like you’re going to vomit all over the seat…” Niall remarked, looking across at Zayn. “Breathe, babe.” It was 7am in the morning and the two of them were travelling in Niall’s car – Niall was dropping Zayn off at Liam’s before heading to a short gym session with his personal trainer. It was a little early for Niall and Zayn to even be up but today was a special day.

“I _am_ going to throw up,” Zayn stated simply. He looked out the window and tried to concentrate on passing people and landmarks. He didn’t think he’d ever been this nervous in his life – not when he’d been waiting for his A-level results, not when he’d been forced to sing in the school play at age 11. Never. His stomach was doing flips and turns, and his heart had been beating erratically for at least two days. That couldn’t be healthy, he was well aware. And the reason for all of this? The song that Zayn had worked so hard on these past few months was finally being sent to radio today. Zayn was going over to Liam’s so they could hear the first play on BBC Radio 2 at 9am.

“I wish I could stay with you and hear it for the first time, too…” Niall said wistfully. He had a long meeting with Adidas that day beginning at 9:30 and though he’d tried really hard to reschedule, it hadn’t been possible. Another huge endorsement deal was potentially on the cards. The two of them had been talking about their future quite a lot since their big fight and Niall was well aware that he wasn’t going to be playing football forever. He definitely wanted to still be able to afford a comfortable lifestyle for himself and his family, whatever form that family took in coming years.

Zayn smoothed over one bushy eyebrow with his index finger, a nervous tick. “I know. I really wish you could be there. But I understand. I know how hard you tried to move the meeting.”

“I can still cancel, if you want. I’ll tell them I’ve come down with explosive diarrhoea or something. The kind that splashes the bathroom walls.”

A burst of loud surprised laughter sounded from Zayn’s mouth, which had probably been Niall’s intention. Zayn exclaimed, “If your arse is sitting on the toilet, how does the shit even get past you to get on the walls??  Y’know what, shut up, don’t answer that – I do not want to hear you explain that one. You’re vile. Not to mention 5 years old.” Zayn wiped a mirth-tear from his eye as his laughter died down. “You don’t have to cancel. Your meeting only starts at 9:30, right. So just make sure you’re listening at 9.”

“I’ve got 6 reminders set on my phone. Wouldn’t miss this for the world... I’m so proud of you, Zayn,” Niall said, suddenly getting serious. He stopped at a red light and turned slightly to Zayn. “People finally get to hear what you can do. I know how hard you’ve worked. And how long you’ve wanted this. I’m just – really happy for you and really really proud.”

“Thank you. I can’t believe this song is finally going to be played.” Zayn smiled as he thought about how far he’d come, and the nervous butterflies lifted a little. “This is different from the Damien thing. That got airplay but in the end it wasn’t really my song, y’know? Barely recognised it the few times I heard. _This_ is my song though, from start to finish – what if people hate it?” Butterflies resumed. And he felt like throwing up again.

“Then they’re idiots. And they have hearing issues because your song is amazing. _You_ are amazing. This is your day, don’t think about other people or wonder if they like it. Just enjoy this because you worked so fucking hard and you deserve this.”

“I’ll try.” So many people were going to be listening at 9 o’clock and that made Zayn even more nervous. His mum had basically sent out a telegram to 200 family members, it seemed like. Zayn loved this song, _The One_ , more than anything he’d ever written or produced. He really hoped that people responded to it. A bunch of the guys at Sony had asked Zayn who had inspired it and who it was about, but Zayn had played coy and said it wasn’t really about anything in particular, that it had been inspired by many life experiences. But the truth was, Zayn knew who it was about.

“I'm really grateful for you. You know that?” Zayn asked his boyfriend suddenly as they got nearer to Liam’s street. “I always want you to know that. Don’t know what I’d do without you... I know people say that all the time but it's like I really don't know... I just know I'd be miserable and prone to sending increasingly idiotic texts, if the other week is anything to go by.” That thing Niall had said during their fight – about Zayn taking him for granted sometimes- it had really stuck with Zayn even though he knew they’d both said dumb untrue things that day. But he never wanted Niall to feel unappreciated. Simply because Niall showed Zayn so much love constantly and he made Zayn feel supported and _cherished_. Cherished was a funny word, not one that Zayn would think of using often – but that was what Niall made him feel like and that was not something to be taken for granted. It would be a tragedy if Niall wasn’t made to feel the same way.

Niall glanced over at him. “You’re cute sometimes. It’s always nice to hear I'm appreciated. Thank you,” he said with this adorable bashful smile that was different from his normal smile. This special smile seemed reserved for Zayn’s eyes only and it kind of made Zayn want to melt, each and every time.

Niall parked the car in a parking bay right outside the front door. He leaned over when he was done and dropped a kiss on Zayn’s mouth. And then another one on his cheek. “I really want to get out the car and be with you today. I guess I should go, though. Sarah is waiting for me.”

“Go, don’t be late. I’ll see you later. Two hours till D-day. Here goes nothing!” Zayn undid his seatbelt and opened his car door. Some of the nerves were starting to be replaced by pure shaky excitement.

“Good luck. You won’t need it, though!”

Zayn waved to him one last time, before entering Liam’s block of flats. Niall had given Sophia the day off to spend with Liam, so it would likely be the 3 of them, sitting their biting their nails until 9am. Zayn wished that Harry could be here but he’d had to visit home that week. Zayn knew that Harry would be listening though.

Liam had been doing a bit of press this past week to promote the song. No major publications just yet as he was only starting out, but he’d done a blurb with Sugarscape and the label had gotten him an invitation for a night out with label-mate Justin Bieber. So Liam’s face had briefly appeared in some shots in the Daily Mail the day before. Who knew that you could buy a spot in someone’s entourage for the night? Zayn certainly hadn’t known. Liam found the whole thing funny but he’d said that Justin had turned out to be an okay guy.

Sophia opened the door to Zayn’s knocking. Zayn looked past her into the living room and spotted Liam on the sofa with his head in his hands. Zayn was pretty sure Liam was muttering to himself too

“Uh… is he alright?” Zayn asked Sophia tentatively.

She shook her head. “He’s really nervous. I’m glad you’re here, maybe you can calm him down. He’s convinced he’s about to be the hugest flop in the history of the Official Charts, to quote him almost directly,” Sophia explained as he led Zayn inside.

“Hey, mate,” Zayn began softly, approaching Liam with caution. Liam looked up and Zayn had the thought that his face looked exactly how Zayn felt. Nervous, excited, scared shitless, hopeful maybe. Zayn sat down beside him and asked, “How’re you feeling? I was shitting bricks this morning. Couldn’t eat a single thing.”

“I’m a fireman, Zayn. At least I was. What – how on earth am I about to be on national radio in a couple of hours, _singing_? What made me think I could do this?” Liam said, eyes wide, shaking his head.

“You did it. It’s not a matter of can you do this. You did it. Smashed it out of the park, actually. Your voice is world class. ” Zayn almost laughed because here he was giving a pep talk when hey, he kind of needed one, too.  “ _We_ did it, mate. Even if we flop and everybody hates this song, we’ll just go back to the drawing board and we’ll keep coming back until we do what we came to do.”

Liam nodded but he still looked green in the face. At around 8am, he stood up and started pacing. Sophia tried to offer him tea or coffee or juice but he kept saying he wouldn’t be able to keep it down. In the end, out of desperation, she poured all three of them a shot of Absolut Vodka and they downed it.

At 8:45, they switched the radio on to the _Chris Evans Breakfast Show._

The vodka had taken the edge off a little. Now Liam merely looked extremely nervous, instead of on the verge of a legitimate mental breakdown. Zayn had no idea what his own face looked like but the closer the time approached to 9:00, Zayn became strangely calm. He was so ridiculously proud of this song and whatever happened from here on out, happened. It was out of his hands now.

The three of them listened as the Breakfast Show crew exchanged banter about the upcoming hiatus of England’s biggest boyband. Then a Jess Glynne song was played followed by an Elvis song. At 8:59, Zayn stood up abruptly and began pacing himself. So much for being calm. Nope, he was ready to throw up again. He got a text from Niall mid-pace:

_Almost time! I’m crouched inside my car outside Adidas offices having a listen haha! I’m so happy for you !!!!!!_

That made Zayn smile for a moment but his fingers couldn’t type right then if his life depended on it so he just quickly sent back a heart emoji.

For some reason, Zayn had been expecting the song to start playing at 9am on the dot. That was the time Sony had been told it would play. But of course, the show went to an advert break at 9am. An advert break that seemed to last an hour instead of the actual four minutes it really took. Liam actually lay down on the floor and covered his face with his hands while they waited.

And then finally.

“We’ve got a new one for you this morning,” Chris began when the show returned. “Our program director has been raving about this one all week so I expect it’s a bit of a banger. Brand new from Liam Payne. Remember that name. First play exclusive. _The One._ Tweet us, Facebook us, let us know what you think…”

Zayn stopped breathing when the opening cords of the song started playing. He vaguely registered his phone going mad with texts and calls but he ignored everything and just gripped Liam’s shoulder. The song was different from anything else on radio at the moment, smooth mellow RnB in the beginning and then gaining traction towards the middle with a sick drum solo before finishing off towards an up-tempo bass and guitar crescendo.  Zayn was so so proud of it.

The song ended and the show’s hosts began their commentary. The female cohost remarked, “Okay but that was amazing. Really like that one! Justin Timberlake who?” She said that last part kind of jokingly.

But Liam still gasped in outrage.

“That was bloody good, wasn’t it?!” Chris said, sounding quite surprised. “You heard it here first, folks. And I guarantee you’ll be hearing lots of that, all over. I think I’m going to play it again, actually, if I can squeeze it in before the news. This goes up on iTunes this Friday. Maybe we can get Liam Payne in for an interview that day.”

Liam and Zayn both did some very unmanly squeals right then while Sophia laughed at them. The show did play the song again and Zayn, Liam and Sophia had another two shots of vodka each to celebrate. A few people starting coming over to the flat, most of whom Zayn didn’t know, Liam’s friends from around the area and from the fire station. Pizzas were ordered, more alcohol was brought out. All this despite the fact that it wasn’t even noon yet.

Niall pitched up at around half past 11, with Louis in tow. He immediately located Zayn in the kitchen getting some ice for his Coke. Niall snuck up on him from behind and threw his arms around him. Zayn startled  a little but then _grinned_ when he turned his head and saw who it was.

Niall was freaking out. “Holy shit, Zayn! Wow. Just, wow. Let it be known right now that as soon as you played that song for me last month, I knew it was going to be huge! I told you.”

Zayn giggled and buried his face onto Niall’s shoulder, not wanting to let go. Niall’s arms held him tighter. Zayn said to him, “You’re my boyfriend. ‘Course you had to hype me up and tell me it’s good.”

“That might be true. Good thing the song was actually brilliant then. I would’ve been in a real moral dilemma if it was shit!”

Zayn half-heartedly punched him in the gut.

“No but seriously, they loved it. I knew they would. This is just the beginning and I’m so happy for you, I could cry. You deserve everything good in this world. I love you so much.”

“Awww…” Sophia purred, entering the kitchen. She was watching them with – look, there was no other way to describe it – she was watching them with heart eyes.  “That is the cutest thing ever. Niall, who knew you were such a softie. Can I take a video?”

“Go away, Soph. We’re trying to have a moment here,” Niall said with a laugh.

“Go away? This is my flat.” She took out a glass from the cupboard and turned back to the two. “This is literally the only place in all of London where you can’t boss me around and tell me what to do. But I’ll get out of your hair. Just came to get a glass for Louis.” She blew them a kiss and strutted out.

They waited until she was gone and then started laughing as they looked at each other.

“I really need to get a new PA. One a lot less nosy,” Niall remarked in a long-suffering tone.

“No, you don’t. You adore her.”

“ _Adore_ is a touch strong, babe. But yeah… she’s a keeper.”

“Am I a keeper?” Zayn asked teasingly. Occasionally he liked to fish for compliments.

Niall gave him a slow smile, like he was seriously considering Zayn’s question. “You. Are a definite keeper.” He bit his lip and looked at Zayn in a way that told Zayn he was about to get teased. “Especially considering the fact that I’m gonna retire one day and have a rich producer boyfriend to buy me diamonds and take me on monthly holidays to Tahiti. I’m not letting go of you anytime soon. So yeah, I’d say you’re a keeper.”

“Now I ain’t sayin he’s a gold digger... but he ain’t messin with no broke…” Zayn crooned softly into Niall’s ear.

Niall merely joined in. “Get down, Niall… Go head, get down!”

=========

That night, when they were in bed after a long day spent at Liam’s, Niall was dozing off in Zayn’s arms when Zayn poked him in the cheek to stop him from fully going under into the world of slumber.

“Niall…”

“Hmmm… What, babe?” Niall shifted and Zayn sensed him rubbing his eyes, even though it was pitch dark in the room.

“I just want to tell you… You know that song’s about you, yeah? _The One_ , I mean. I wrote it about you…” Zayn trailed off because telling Niall this had so many implications. The song talked about knowing you’d found, well, _the one_.

Niall’s hand found Zayn’s waist and he squeezed. He kissed Zayn’s shoulder softly and Zayn could feel the smile on Niall’s lips. After a moment, Niall said, fully awake now, “Is it really? I hoped - The lads kept teasing me about it today when they heard the song  – Louis, Josh and them. But I didn’t want to read too much into the lyrics. What if it was just some random song you’d written which had nothing to do with me?”

“It’s completely about you. Like, one hundred percent. I hope that doesn’t freak you out a little? I don’t know…” Zayn was unsure if he should even be telling him this. But he wanted him to know.

“I’m not freaked out. I’m – I’m really happy. And amazed and thankful. It's a beautiful song. I’d buy it and love it and play it all the time even if I didn’t know you. But to think, that song, that gorgeous song I heard all day on the radio today is about _me_ … And what the words mean… Yeah I’m freaking out a little but not in the way you think.”

“That sounds... positive,” Zayn settled on, grinning in the dark.

“I’m going to be so annoying to everybody about this song,” Niall stated. “I’ll be standing in the middle of Tesco and it’s gonna start playing and some little old lady will have to listen to me ramble about how the song is about ME and how it was written by my beautiful brilliant boyfriend. Did I mention, about ME?”

Zayn started laughing because he could exactly imagine some old woman tactfully trying to escape while Niall talked on and on. “Yeah. You’re kinda my muse, now. So like, sucks for you, but it means you can’t just go dumping me unless you want to leave a man’s career in tatters.”

“Yeah. That does suck for me.”

Zayn slapped him on the butt. It was meant to be a little tap but Zayn ended up getting quite into it and smacking it satisfyingly hard. Niall’s butt was just so nice to touch.

But Niall just laughed. “Ooh, do that again. I don’t know if that was meant to be a punishment. In which case, I should see what else I can say to wind you up.”

“You’re literally terrible. How is this a fair exchange,” Zayn said, feigning sadness. “I write you songs and talk about you being my muse. You try to find ways to annoy me.”

“I love you,” Niall said, immediately appropriately contrite but sounding like he wanted to laugh again. Then he shifted in Zayn’s arms and sat up a little like he had something on his mind. When he spoke again, he sounded serious, “You’re that for me, too. Everything you said in the song. Zayn… I've been wanting to ask you something. I want you to move in with me. I mean, I want to live with you, like properly. Not this back and forth we keep doing between your place and mine. I want my home to be your home.”

“Move in with you? Like, here? In this house?” Zayn stilled, really not having anticipated this at all.

“Yeah. I mean, we can live somewhere else, I suppose? If you don’t like this house or something…” Niall bit his lip.

“No, it’s not that.” Zayn loved this house. “It’s not anything actually. You caught me by surprise… You really want me to move in with you?”

“Yeah, I really do. A lot.”

“Then, yes.” Zayn didn't even try to stop the expanding smile on his face. Zayn wanted to live with him too; he hadn't realized just how much he wanted it until the offer was put on the table.

"I thought I'd have to talk you into it for three weeks before I even got a 'maybe'." He sounded quietly pleased.

The old Zayn would've said 'no' on instinct, for sure. Because he would've felt he should. But this new Zayn was learning that it was okay to simply do what your heart wanted. It was okay to not overthink everything. Easy as that.


	20. Chapter 20

The next few weeks were the definition of whirlwind. Zayn barely had time to blink, never mind eat or sleep. It was go, go, go; and the only thing he had sustaining him was pure adrenaline.

As one of the execs at Sony said to Zayn at a meeting a few days after _The One_ was released to iTunes, “It’s always a gamble. Sometimes a song hits, sometimes it doesn’t. And even with years and years of experience in this industry, it’s often really hard to predict exactly what a song will do.”

Well, this particular song _hit._ It started off pretty slowly though, hitting the top 40 on iTunes on the day of release largely thanks to a huge amount of radio airplay that week. But things moved really quickly after Liam was invited to do an acoustic version of the song on BBC Radio 1 on the Monday. The song shot to the Top 5 and now there were even talks of an X Factor performance if the song held up.

Liam was barely recognisable from the man Zayn had met months ago but the change was good. Zayn loved watching Liam enjoy all of this so much – the new wardrobe, the occasional press following him around on nights out around London, the positive critics’ reviews. Liam was still the same sweet guy as ever but now he walked around with a certain gleam in his eye that wasn’t there before, a certain spark, as though he had finally figured out what he was meant to do with his life.

It wasn’t just the song that was making Zayn’s life a whirlpool of activity; it was also the fact that he’d moved into Niall’s sprawling white Hertfordshire home roughly two weeks after Niall had asked. Zayn’s cousin Isar had taken over Zayn’s part of the lease with Harry at the flat so now those two idiots would be living together. A match made in hellraiser heaven.

Living together was a huge step for Zayn. (The night before the move, Zayn might have had a mini breakdown in the middle of Harry’s room about whether this wasn’t a hasty mistake). Moving in with Niall meant saying goodbye to a whole huge part of Zayn’s life and even more than that, what if this move spelled disaster for their relationship. What if they found that living together was terrible, and what if they began fighting all the time about dumb stuff like dishes and the colour of bed sheets, and what if Zayn playing music at all hours of the day drove Niall insane, and what if Niall turned out to have some as yet undiscovered disgusting habit that would make Zayn want to reconsider his entire existence.

Yes, Zayn had a mini panic attack at 1:30am that Harry had to calm him out of. Zayn had heard all of the horror stories about seemingly happy couples who turned into enemies once the honeymoon phase was over and they had to deal with the mundane realities of day-in day-out life.

But in the end, Zayn had calmed down and moved in. And he was glad he had. It had only been a few weeks so far, but Zayn had never been happier. The two of them were building a warm cozy busy home, and this felt like just the beginning. It helped that they’d already long discovered that neither was perfect, so that put unrealistic expectations out of the way. Of course there were those 1 minute tiffs about things like the (wrong, according to Niall) way Zayn continued to load the dishwasher. And a briefly awkward moment when Zayn started telling Niall about his day spent with Mark at a music conference in Paris and Zayn absent-mindedly mentioned that Tony had picked Mark up when they arrived back in London.

“I never want to hear that name, Zayn,” Niall had said, interrupting Zayn’s story. They’d been standing in the kitchen, making cups of evening tea.  Niall didn’t look mad necessarily as he stared down into his cup, just annoyed.

“Oh – sorry,” Zayn had said. The smile that had been on his face had slipped. “I wasn’t even thinking about him, I was just – sorry.”

Niall had shaken his head at that. “It’s okay. It’s not even a thing anymore. I really mean that. I would just personally like to not have to hear his name in this house.”

“Same, actually. You won’t.”

The awkward moment had passed a second later when Niall dipped a biscuit into Zayn’s mug of tea as if his own cup of tea wasn’t a few inches away.

Zayn could understand where Niall was coming from –Zayn still bristled involuntarily whenever someone mentioned Minky. But she wasn’t really around anymore. Maybe something Zayn had said to her at that charity football match the other month had stuck because Minky had backed off and all of the PR nonsense had been called off.

Other than those small things here and there, living together was pretty great. And a lot less admin for the both of them because it meant they weren’t constantly travelling between two homes like they’d been doing for the past year. Being together every night and every morning meant that there was always space to find a moment to talk and hang out, despite their crazy busy schedules.

AND. Zayn would never ever really admit this to anyone but there was one specific aspect of this move that made Zayn’s little heart extremely giddily happy - there was nothing better than getting undressed at the end of a long week and soaking in the bathtub for an hour. It wasn’t just any bathtub, okay. Niall’s – _their_ – bathroom was Zayn’s favourite room in the whole house. Being in there felt like he was being booked into a luxury hotel every damn day of his life.

The free standing rectangular matte-black bathtub in the middle of the expansive room had been love at first sight when Zayn had first seen it months and months ago. But now, it was crazy to think that this bathroom was kind of his too now. Underfloor heating, thick luxurious gold draped curtains surrounding the tub, a fireplace, a built in music system, a mini fridge stocked with champagne and Ferrero Rochers. The room was heaven on earth. Zayn tried not to go into it every day, preferring to use the simpler shower in the en-suite bathroom on most mornings - he never wanted to get used to heaven on earth and become blase about it.

One night while they were both lounging in that tub one Sunday evening, Niall with his back against Zayn’s chest, Niall said lazily, “Y’know… Sometimes I think you only agreed to move in with me so you could have this room all to yourself.”

Zayn drizzled warm foamy water onto his boyfriend’s chest and began laughing. “Am I that obvious?”

“Yeah, you are. It probably could’ve been Big Foot or old Ahmed from down the road asking you to move in, for all you care. You just wanted a big bathroom.”

Even though Niall was just teasing, Zayn still said, “The bathroom is just a bonus. I moved in with you because there’s nothing better than leaving the studio at the end of the day and being like ‘bye peeps, I’m going _home_ to my boyfriend.’ And because you make me tea every single morning to drag my arse out of bed. As you can imagine, Harry never bothered. And because I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you.”

“Those are pretty good reasons,” Niall answered. He gently bopped the back of his head against Zayn’s forehead. Zayn could hear the smile in his voice.

“ _Pretty_ good?” Zayn asked.

“Damn good. Very good. So good. Kinda like how I plan to give it to you _so_ good, babe... as soon as we get out of this tub.”

For once, Zayn may have sprung out of that tub as quick as anything, instead of staying there until his skin was wrinkled like a prune like he usually did.

===========

_Months later_

Zayn was busy working long hours on Liam’s debut studio album, due for release the next summer. And he’d been also commissioned to work on stuff for two other artists, mostly urban songs with a dance or pop slant. _The One_ had ended up peaking at #3 on the Official UK Chart and had even reached #7 in Australia. Zayn wasn’t going to stop until he had a global #1 though. More than just a few #1s actually.

By this point, Zayn had hired a small production team of his own – a really good kid from Camden named Sid who had a wicked ear for melody and a girl around Zayn’s age, Martha - a recent sound engineering graduate who was very good at tweaking equipment. Plus she had the sunniest nicest personality in existence so she was the go-to when Zayn wanted someone to handle artist relations. She kinda reminded him of Niall in the personality respect; maybe that was partly why he had hired her.

Niall and Zayn and their bull terrier Sammy were as happy as anything, still. Zayn had met Niall’s family in Ireland over Christmas and he’d fallen in love with Mullingar so much, simply because while there he hadn’t been able to stop imagining a little dark-haired cerulean-eyed boy with a football in his hand and huge dreams in his heart. He imagined a little boy who’d been surrounded by circumstances and people who were telling him he couldn’t become what he wanted, but that little boy had picked up his football and kept playing.

Zayn was so hugely proud of Niall, just in general, that he felt like his heart could burst with it sometimes.

(And Zayn also loved Mullingar because the way Niall’s accent had become unbelievably thicker almost the second they touched down in Ireland, had meant that Zayn’s pants had felt a little tight, like, the entire trip.)

Their life was good. Stable, happy. But nothing stays the same forever. Around 7 months after they’d begun living together, on a Friday morning that they’d both planned on spending at home, Zayn emerged from the shower at around noon to find Niall sitting on their edge of their bed, staring at the floor, looking a little shell shocked.

“Ni? What’s wrong?” Zayn walked further into the room, steam still rising from his damp skin.

Niall looked up at the sound of Zayn’s voice. He was quiet for at least five seconds before explaining in a hush, “Just got off the phone with Josh. You know how I told you we’ve been busy doing my contract renewal with Arsenal? Well. Josh just told me Real Madrid is offering to take me on for £32 million. They want me to transfer and play for them.”

“Whoah... Oh wow.” Zayn sat down next to him and turned to face him with bug eyes.

“I know.”

Niall’s last 3 year contract with Arsenal had been worth £21 million, not shabby by any means obviously. Arsenal was currently putting in a renewed bid for £25 million. But £32 million was an amazing offer. Zayn could barely wrap his head around that big a sum of money. But…

“Real Madrid is in Spain,” Zayn pointed out needlessly.

“It is.” Niall slowly sank backwards onto the bed and he stared at the ceiling.

“Are you going to take the offer?” Zayn wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer but he had to ask. What did this mean for them? Spain was… pretty far away.

“Two years ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. I mean, I love Arsenal. But more than that, I love the _game_. I’m happy just to play. So I would’ve said yes because I get to play and that’s fucking good money. But now…” Niall stopped and shook his head. “I can’t. Right?” He sounded like he was genuinely asking Zayn what to do.

“I don’t know, love. I can’t tell you if you should take it or not.” Zayn lay down too, completely stark naked still but he barely even noticed. “Do you want to go to Madrid?”

“I don’t want to leave _you_ ,” Niall whispered, looking him in the eye. “That’s the only thing I really know for sure. I know you have to be _here_ for your work.”

“And I don’t want you to leave.” Zayn really didn’t want that and he felt some achey panic just thinking about it. But he forced himself to think about it some more; he didn’t want to be the reason holding Niall back from something he maybe wanted to do. “It matters to me if this is something you might like to do. We should talk about it, at least consider it… Where’s your phone? Let’s use our trusty friend Google. How long is a flight from here to Madrid, for starters?”

“Around 2 hours, last I checked. But yeah, let’s get our facts completely straight.” Niall fetched his phone and typed a few things before reciting, “The non-stop flight duration from London Heathrow Airport to Adolfo Suárez Madrid–Barajas Airport is 2 hours 15 minutes.”

“Okay. Okay...” Zayn considered what Niall had just read out loud. “That’s not so bad. You could come home at least a couple times a week. On the days when you don’t have practice or a game.”

“I could,” Niall agreed. “But do I want to… I really don’t know. It’s not even a matter of my head says yes and my heart says no. It’s like half of my head says yes and half says no, and half of my heart is telling me go for it, go play. And the other half is reminding me that the man I love is right here in London and do I really want to spend so much time away from him… Especially when I can still play _here_.”

“You want to go. Niall.” Zayn climbed on top of him and snuggled his damp body against Niall’s agitated one. Zayn already knew where this conversation was going to end up, he could already feel Niall slipping out of his grasp a little. He just needed Niall to see it, too. “I know you, better than anybody. You want to do this. So… you should do it.” Zayn tried not to sound so sad about it. It was only 2 hours.

“I don’t want to live in some city without you.”

“But you want to go and play.”

Niall sighed after a moment and finally said, “I think I do. It’s an amazing opportunity. Mostly for me. But for us too, that’s a lot of money that we can use for so many things going forward. But I swear on my life, if you don’t want me to go, just say the word and I’ll stay.”

“Uh... so you can resent me and end up imploding one day 5 years from now and yelling about how I ruined your life in the middle of some argument about spoiled milk or something? No thanks.”

“I’d never say you ruined my life,” Niall said, quite seriously, looking at him with furrowed brows. “In what world would I say that? What we have is the best thing about my life. I wouldn’t resent you. I don’t want you to resent _me_. Is it selfish of me to want to go to Spain?”

“Maybe. A little.” Zayn saw Niall’s face fall. He quickly elaborated, “And you know what, it’s okay to be a little selfish. You’re one of the best players in the world, of course you should experience travelling and different cities and honing your craft every way you can.  We both know a footballer’s playing years are limited. You and me on the other hand, this isn’t a temporary thing. Not to me. So I want you to experience everything you want. Even if it means I’ll miss you like mad some days of the week.”

Niall was quiet for nearly an entire minute. Eventually he said, “I’ll fly home four times a week. Five. I’ll call you every day. It will be like I haven’t even gone.”

Zayn wasn’t sure about that part. And he wasn’t sure that Niall would be able to fly five times a week (10 times if you counted return trips) and still be able to train and play at his full potential. So all he said was, “Five, huh? We’ll see. We don’t have to decide everything today.” He sighed. So, this was really happening. “When do they want the transfer to happen?”

“Five weeks.”

Zayn nodded and coughed to cover that rising lump in the base of his throat. He missed him _already._ “Okay. Plenty of time to figure out how we’re going to do this.” He felt Niall’s arms wrap tight around him and they stayed like that on the bed for a good while. Zayn tried to concentrate on thinking about practical things, like how they should go down to Madrid soon to see about getting Niall somewhere to live. But really all he could think about was the fact that Niall was going to be there and he was going to be here.

And five weeks later, for the first time in a really long time, Zayn had that huge bed all to himself for a number of consecutive nights. It was funny – he’d known that he was going to miss Niall but he hadn’t quite anticipated feeling _this_ lost and waking up feeling _this_ heavy-hearted. There was no morning cup of tea waiting for him, only Sammy at the foot of their bed, looking as forlorn as Zayn felt. There was nobody to come home to and talk to about the new songs he was working on. This home, this bed, it all felt a little alien now. It felt too big and Zayn didn’t know how to fill the silences and all these huge rooms by himself. But he knew he had to get used to this. This was his new normal. At least for now.

 


	21. Chapter 21

Missing him was a constant thing, every day. It was always there in the back of Zayn’s mind while he went about his day at the studio or when he sat daydreaming in meetings; while he cooked depressingly small meals for himself the few times a week he could be bothered; when Sammy did something funny and Zayn had nobody to show her off to; but especially when he climbed into bed at night and had the whole wide space to himself.

Zayn had gone to Madrid with Niall a few weeks back to help him settle into his new bachelor apartment in the upmarket district of La Moraleja, just outside of Madrid. He’d stayed a weekend at Niall’s new place, a weekend that had mostly consisted of him mentally scolding himself for wasting this short time with Niall in this beautiful city by being so sad. On his solo flight back to London, Zayn had hoped that this feeling of loneliness would lessen with time. But it didn’t really. It just became almost normal, that vaguely hollow feeling inside.  The new normal.

Niall hadn’t been home for a few weeks because they’d both decided that for now, it was really important for him to get settled with his new team and get to know them both on and off the pitch. Zayn knew how much pressure was on Niall- so many eyes across the world were on him right now, waiting to see if he could live up to the hype that this transfer had caused. The transfer had been all over the papers and news from the day it was announced roughly two weeks after Niall and Zayn had first talked about it.

As much as he wanted his boyfriend back in London, Zayn had worried that constant flights back and forth would interrupt the natural flow and progression of the connections Niall was trying to forge with his teammates and coaches. So just for now, it was better for Niall to stay there and concentrate on his career. 

Real Madrid was the most valuable sports team in the world, worth over €2.5 billion as well as the world's highest-earning football club. Niall kept saying to Zayn, just before his official move to Spain, that he couldn’t believe he – some kid from County Westmeath - would soon be donning the iconic white jersey. Zayn could well believe it. His boyfriend was a spunky, fearless, focused player and even Zayn could see that much, despite the fact that Zayn would never be anything close to a football expert.

Niall called him every night, like he’d promised. Three and a half weeks after Niall had gone to Madrid, Niall called him in the middle of the day for once, while Zayn was grabbing a quick lunch on the balcony of the Sony offices in Enfield. He quickly set down his chicken sandwich when he saw the name that was lighting up the screen on his cellphone.

“Hey. Everything alright?” Zayn swallowed down the last of the bite he’d taken.

“Hello, you. Everything’s fine. Day off today. A few of us are about to head to Ramos’, wife’s making lunch.” Niall sounded like he was driving.

“Ramos?”

“Sergio. Defender on the team,” Niall clarified warmly. “I just wanted to call and see how your day’s been so far.”

“It’s been okay. We went to watch Liam rehearse this morning. He just got asked to perform at the Radio 1 Teen Awards and he’s making me come, so that should be interesting... I’m kind of dreading it,” Zayn said, laughing a little. Liam’s third single was coming out on Friday, the day after the Teen Awards. (His second single after _The One_ had done okay, reaching #7 on the Official Chart, but both Liam and Zayn wanted to get back into the top 5 with this third single).

“Will I see you on TV if I watch? That would be cool…” Niall said.

“Probably not. _The One_ is nominated for Best Male Single. Already told you that, yeah? But it will be Liam accepting the award, of course. If he wins. And that’s how I prefer it.”

“Yeah... I suppose,” Niall said wistfully. He sighed. “Would’ve been nice to see you. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” Vast understatement.

There was a long pause, and it felt _sad,_ even just over the phone. Niall eventually asked, “What else are you up to? Tell me everything, I want to feel like I’m there.”

So Zayn told him everything they hadn't already talked about this week. He told him about the new single he was working on for a Syco girl group, and he told him about Harry’s new boyfriend, some 35 year old biker from Camden. He told him about Sammy getting a boyfriend of sorts too, a neighbour’s dog from down the road. And then he told Niall that their house still didn’t feel the same without him and that he was counting down the days until they could see each other.

“Still feels weird. Being in this huge house by myself, y’know? Is it even mine?” Zayn mused. “It’s not. Been toying with the idea of maybe moving into something smaller myself… I don’t know.”

“You want to move out?” It was asked quietly. “I didn’t know that. And that house is just as much yours as it is mine. Don’t you feel like it’s your home?”

“I do. I did, when you were here. But now, it’s huge and the bed is huge and everything is so quiet and every square inch reminds me of you. It’s hard. I don’t want to move out but maybe I should? ... I’m just thinking about it.”

Niall’s voice was softer than before, when he next spoke. “It’s hard here, too. I wish there was some simple solution. I don’t want you to feel alone… I hate the thought of you being sad in that house. When it was such a happy place for us.”

“Yeah. It's just that, I’d like to go to bed at night and not lay awake thinking about how this is  _our_ bed and how sad it is that I’m by myself in it. I’m…  okay during the day but it’s really hard when I go home.”

Niall had signed a two year contract with Real Madrid. This separation wouldn’t necessarily last a very long time but at the same time, two years wasn’t exactly short, either.

“Babe. I feel like if you move out, that will be two steps back for us. Neither of us will be in that house. It’s our home, Zayn. We made a home. I haven’t been able to come these past few weeks but I will, you know that right? I promise I’ll always come home to you. But there has to _be_ a home to go to.” Niall sounded stricken and that made Zayn really just want to reassure him.

“It wouldn’t be two steps back. Home for me isn’t a house, Niall. It’s really not. It’s wherever I can be with you, cheesy as that sounds. That’s why that house isn’t really home right now. And when you come to London to see me, you’ll still be coming home, to _me_ , wherever I am. Isn’t that how it should go?”

“Yeah…” Niall started slowly. “I guess you're right. And I hate you for that.” He laughed briefly.

“You hate me? Well, that’s a shame. Considering I had so many plans for you next weekend.” Zayn was going to be travelling to Madrid for Niall’s big game against FC Barcelona.

“Oh, yeah? What kind of plans?”

“You’ll see. Or maybe you won’t, since you hate me…” Zayn said.

“You know exactly how fucking gone I am for you, shut up.” There was a distinct smile in his voice. There was silence for a few beats after that and then Niall spoke again, sounding serious once more. “I can’t wait to see you. And kiss you. And just hold you for like an hour, y’know? God. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” They’d been saying those words so much lately but only because they were so true.

Zayn also wanted to point out, “The house thing, I was just putting it out there. It’s not like I’ve got this huge urge to leave or whatever. I’m just thinking about things, trying to figure out what’s the best way to make this work.”

“I know... This isn’t easy. And I left and came to Spain, so it would be insane of me to try to stop you if you want to move out and live somewhere else in London. Part of me just hopes you don’t want to. The thought of you, our home, our dumb dog – that’s what puts a smile back on my face whenever I start feeling mopey and lonely out here. But like you said, home isn’t just a house. Whatever you want is okay with me, as long as it’s what you really want.”

What Zayn wanted was Niall. Zayn just nodded, though. “I’ll see how I feel in a month or so. Probably shouldn’t make any rash decisions.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think, too…. Babe, listen, I’ll call you later. I’m pulling up to Ramos’ estate.”

Zayn really needed to head back into the building, too. Sid was probably looking for him. “Alright. Have fun, eat lots.”

“Always do!”

Hours later, at around 6pm, Zayn decided to call it a day at the studio and head back to the house.  Sammy was there waiting for him as usual, looking as happy to see Zayn as he was her. He didn’t know what he would have done these past few weeks without his dog. Some people (read: Isar) liked to tease him to death about it but she really was Zayn’s little baby, his furry almost-child. She kept close by whenever she sensed that Zayn was feeling a little more melancholy than usual, like tonight.

Zayn went to bed that night with his arms wrapped tight around Niall’s pillow. It didn’t smell like him even a little bit anymore of course – the housekeeper who came in twice a week had changed the bedding many times since Niall had left. But Zayn still liked to hold that pillow, maybe simply because it gave him something to hold.

Towards the morning, his mind slipped into the nicest dream; he dreamed that Niall was home, in bed with him, kissing him awake. Zayn didn’t want to wake up and he tried to force himself to stay in that dream for as long as possible. But he couldn’t, because a voice kept whispering in his ear and taking him further and further away from sleep’s grasp. “Baby… baby, wake up.”

Zayn gradually opened his eyes and blearily focused on the face right next to his on the pillow. Niall. Niall, who smiled at Zayn’s confused face and leaned closer to plant a tender kiss on his cheek and stay there. Zayn couldn’t even form a single word... half of him felt like this had to still be a dream and the other half knew it wasn’t (and that half was so happy, it couldn’t think of a thing to say).

“Hi…” Niall said. “You look like a sleepy kitten right now. So cute, a little grumpy.” Niall laughed a second later, eyes crinkling at the edges. “Are you really not going to say anything? Should I go?”

Zayn was so quick to shake his head at that and a moment after this, he finally found his voice. “What are you doing here? What time is it?” He sat up a little, rubbing at his eyes. He was smiling now, though. And at the same time precariously close to tears because of how happy he was to see this person. He threw his arms around Niall.

“Past 8," Niall answered, his voice muffled against Zayn's cheek. "Came to see you! What else would I be here for? I know we said I should just stay in Madrid for a while but I didn’t want to. I needed to come home.”

Zayn grinned some more and forced himself to find the will to climb out of bed. He headed towards the ensuite bathroom, knowing that Niall would follow. And the reason Zayn got up was a little shallow (maybe) - he really just wanted to brush his teeth. He hadn’t seen his boyfriend in weeks and yes, at this stage of their relationship they were well used to unpleasant bodily functions and things like that  - but Zayn didn’t really want to his first encounter with his boyfriend after so long to be one filled with breath that was somewhat less than minty.

Niall did indeed get up and follow and he watched as Zayn splashed water on his face and quickly brushed his teeth at the sink. While Zayn brushed, Niall told him, “Caught a flight at fuck o’clock this morning. We have today off again. I didn’t really sleep well last night. Kept thinking about you. Well – I think about you every day. But last night I was just thinking about how we met, everything we’ve been through. I was thinking about the day I first knew I was falling for you - it was so dumb, you were just sitting on your couch and laughing at Citizen Khan or something and I knew. Anyway, I couldn't sleep a wink last night, didn't feel tired. Kept wondering if I told you enough just how much you mean to me. Then I realised - I needed to come here and tell you all of this in person.”

Zayn patted his face dry with a towel and walked over to him to kiss him freely now. They walked back into their bedroom, lips attached, Zayn inching backwards while Niall guided him. They fell onto the bed and kissed and kissed for what seemed like hours. Niall was home and Zayn still couldn’t quite believe it but he was willing to go with it. He hadn’t touched someone and been touched for what seemed like such a long time; and it was almost like the first time he got together with Niall all over again. That first night. That’s what this giddiness and hyperawareness reminded him of.

Niall hands roamed everywhere like he was just as giddy; one second his hands were on Zayn’s hips, the next up Zayn’s tshirt touching his chest, the next second they were cupping Zayn’s face. “Hi,” he kept saying happily and laughing. ”Hi.”

“Are you going to stop greeting me anytime soon?” Zayn asked him. But he was laughing, too. “Take off your parka. Aren’t you boiling in that thing?”

“If you want me to get undressed, just say so.”

What Zayn wanted was, “I just want you. Any way I can get you.”

Niall laughed again, his mouth against Zayn’s temple. “Cornball. A sexy cornball though.” He fingered a strand of Zayn’s dark locks. “Your hair is getting long again. It grows so fast.”

“I need it to grow faster. Me and Harry are having a competition! I hope you like really long-haired men because you’re going to have one soon,” Zayn informed him.

“Like you said, any way I can get you. Is cool by me. You could die your hair green and I’d still dig it.”

“Ooh..” Zayn considered that for a moment. “That’s not a bad idea actually. Green is _sick._ I might just do it.”

“Jesus Christ.”

 They lay like that for a few minutes, laying intermittent kisses on lips and necks and jaws.

“Zayn, I love you.” He whispered this against Zayn’s mouth.

“I love you, too.”

“I want to tell you that a million times,” Niall began, and he pulled his head back a little to look at Zayn. “Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision going there.  Madrid is great and the team has been so welcoming and I love playing with them but – what if you can’t wait for me?” Niall took a deep breath. “What if calls and visits aren’t enough for you, and you meet someone who is right here and who can be with you every day. Anything could happen. That scares me. If I lose you, I'd only have myself to blame, really.”

Zayn couldn’t ever imagine anything like that happening. As hard as these weeks had been, there wasn’t anybody in London or anywhere else who could make him feel like this. “I’m not going anywhere. There’s nobody else I want.  And it’s not like I don’t worry about the same thing -I drive myself insane sometimes thinking about who might be throwing themselves at you over there. Harry keeps telling me to stop being an idiot. I try not to let my head go there but sometimes you can’t help it…”

Niall pulled him into his arms and he touched a finger to Zayn's bottom lip, moving that finger across. “I won’t lie and say there aren’t people like that. I doubt it’s even me in particular they want. It’s money and a little bit of fame they’re after. I have everything I've ever wanted and I’m not about to fuck that up over some groupies.” Niall shook his head.

“Good. I’d be forced to take out a hit on your life if you did.” Zayn tried to sound jokingly menacing but he probably just sounded purely goofy. He was too happy right now to sound anything else.

It dawned on him that the next few years were probably going to be hard and unpredictable. It wasn't really going to get easier. But what he had here with Niall was real. And rare. Zayn doubted that he would ever find something this special with someone ever again. And he didn’t _want_ to find it with someone else. He was exactly where he was supposed to be, with exactly who he was supposed to be with. That was the only thing that really mattered. The rest (the good, the ugly, the loneliness, the insecurities) that came from being apart, they would figure it out and stick it through and come together when they could.

Zayn wasn’t about to let Niall go. This was the one person in this entire world that Zayn would want to have in his arms if the world’s final day of reckoning arrived, if the sky was turning red and the world was about to end and there was nothing left to do except wait for cataclysmic events to unfold. Niall was the one. The real deal, for lack of a more poetic way to explain it. Zayn knew that. And everything else he didn't know for sure about their future together would just have to play out in the background while Zayn kept loving him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU to everybody who has been leaving comments. I truly appreciate your feedback sooo much


	22. Chapter 22

The sound of the massive crowd cheering and chanting within the packed outdoor sports structure in Madrid was only a vague hum in Zayn’s ear; he was too in his head and too concerned with the outcome of this night to truly pay attention to all of that. The mood all around him at Palacio de los Deportes was one of tangible anticipation and nervous excitement; the October night air was thick with it and Zayn almost felt like he couldn’t quite breathe comfortably. Yes, breathing was proving difficult for him right now.

Tonight was important. And the moment Zayn had been waiting for all night had finally arrived.  His eyes were locked on the upraised centre of the arena and his hands were pressed to his knees where he sat, fingers digging into the flesh.

“Hi, Madrid!” Zendaya bellowed from the stage, looking ravishing in a yellow gown and an elaborate updo. “I’m so excited to be at this year’s MTV EMAs. And I’m even more excited to announce the nominees in this next category. This has been such a busy year for music, filled with so many worthy contributions from artists all over the world.”

Zendaya’s co-presenter for this award, Avan Jogia, had a white envelope in his hands and he held it up a little. He beamed at the audience and said, “Without further ado… the nominations for Best Album are….”

A second later, the video montage began to play, showing quick moving colour-distorted images from the different nominees’ music videos. “ _Serendipity: Taylor Swift…. Reason to Be: Fourth Melody…. Maybe: Bruno Mars… Page Two: Liam Payne… Glass Houses: Jess Glynne… Life, Love, Motion: Louisa Johnson…”_

Avan lifted the flap of the envelope and pulled out a small piece of paper as Zayn watched on the giant monitors. Avan read the writing on the paper for a second before announcing with a smile and a loud voice, “The winner of this year’s Best Album is Page Two by Liam Payne!”

Zayn shook his head, sure he’d heard wrong, even as the arena erupted into rapturous applause.  Niall on one side of him and Harry on the other side were making the most noise of all – having stood up in their seats and started jumping around. Even Louis was here, on the other side of Niall – he’d come to visit Niall in Madrid for the week. Zayn glanced up at all of them in shock. “Did I hear that right? He won?”

The chorus of the first single, _Waiting for You_ , from Liam’s second studio album was currently blasting throughout the arena, so Zayn was starting to catch on that he had heard exactly right.

Liam had been allocated a seat much closer to the stage, a few rows ahead of his friends. Zayn watched as he made his way to the stage, stopping along the way to give a few people high-fives and hugs. Liam’s head was closely shaven and he looked impeccable in a black Armani suit, a closed-buttoned tan Versace shirt and custom made pristine Converse sneakers. The only reason why Zayn even knew what Liam was wearing was because Zayn had been forced to give him advice over and over as Liam had changed his mind again and again. For the past two weeks, it seemed like every morning Zayn would wake up to a text from Liam with pictures of different selections from his stylist and Zayn would have to tell him which one he thought was best. Liam looked great now though, bounding up the stairs two at a time like he wasn’t nervous at all (Zayn knew better).

Liam hugged Avan and gave Zendaya quite a long smooch on the cheek. They handed him his award and he was given a mic as well. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, he just stared at his award and his smile became progressively crinklier-eyed while the crowd roared. Eventually he looked up and said into the mic, “I truly never ever thought that anything like this would happen to a person like me. This is my first big international award and the fact that I was even nominated among groups and singers that I’ve admired for years is so crazy.” 

(Liam’s third single from his first album had done even better than _The One_ , finally reaching #1 on the Official Chart, and he’d won a Brit Award for Best British Single a year ago. But this award today truly was his first notable international recognition.)

Liam continued after taking a deep breath, “I’m so honoured and so so grateful. Thank you to everybody who bought this album and came out to show me love on tour – first and foremost, this award belongs to you the fans. I also have to thank my wife and best friend Sophia for her constant love over the years. When we first got together, we had nothing but each other and we never dreamed we’d be living such a blessed life… I also have to thank my amazing family for everything over the years, I love you all. Thank you to my label as well, for taking a chance on a complete unknown. Thank you so much.”

He looked out into the crowd and took in another long inhale of breath. “And last but not least, I have to thank my friend and producer Zayn Malik. Without him, there wouldn’t be an album – literally, he produced 10 of the 12 songs on my album and wrote 7. We’ve been working together right from the start. Thank you Zayn, for being the first one to believe I could do this, at a time when I hadn’t even considered that any of this was possible. Love you, mate. You said we’d do it and we did!” (Zayn may have choked up a little right then and had to inconspicously wipe at his eye. They really had done it.)

Random music began playing throughout the arena right then, cuing Liam to wrap it. He held up his award and said into the mic, “Uh oh, they’re kicking me off. To everyone who worked on this album and to the fans again, thank you. Thanks!”

He turned to the stage exit, and he, Zendaya and Avan walked off, laughing about something as they disappeared.

Zayn still wasn’t quite breathing and he turned to Niall who already had his warm gaze on Zayn, like he’d been watching Zayn for a while. Niall grabbed the sides of Zayn’s face, kissed him hard and screamed, “Babe, you just won a fucking _EMA!_ _What_!! Liam’s right, this album is as much yours as it is his. I’m so proud of you – how are you so calm right now?!! I feel like I’m about to pass out.” Niall laughed, throwing his head back and yes, it did look a little manic.

“I think I’m still in shock,” Zayn said in a hushed tone. His voice was strangely calm indeed but the hand that wasn’t currently being crushed by Niall was trembling and Zayn could feel his heart thudding at a steady heavy pace, almost like all of this was happening in slow motion. This night was everything he’d ever dreamed for himself and more.

The show’s main presenter, Justin Bieber, appeared on the monitors then and remarked, “Liam’s such a good guy, love that dude. A well deserved win. And speaking of good guys, get excited for tonight’s next performance. This next performer was a 4-time winner at last year’s EMAs and he’s looking to see how many he can scoop up tonight. Please put your hands together for Ed Sheeran, singing his new single _Maybe I Will_.”

“I love Ed. Reckon we’d become good friends if we ever got to hang out,” Harry said quite loudly as Ed got underway.

“You keep telling yourself that, mate. I understand the sentiment though,” Louis remarked. He was sipping on something brown and strong, and appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. “It’s kind of like how I know I’d be very close with Adriana Lima if she bothered to return my calls... But Ed does seem like the type to enjoy a quirky bar-owner like yourself. Ask Liam to get you in there!”

Niall and Zayn kind of ignored the two of them and turned to each other again. “One down, two to go,” Niall said.

Zayn shook his head though. “It’s mind blowing that Liam won _one_. I don’t think our luck extends as far as 3.” Liam was also up for the Best Male category. And another single, _Miles,_ that Zayn had written and produced for Emeli Sande last summer was up for Best Song. This night was insane - quite literally beyond Zayn’s previous wildest dreams. Now his dreams were huge though – he wasn’t going to rest until he had a whole list of Grammy-nominated songs.

In the end, Liam didn’t win Best Male – it went to Ed. Zayn hoped that Liam wasn’t too cut up about it – he’d get ‘em next time. But amazingly _Miles_ did win Best Song, five minutes after Emeli performed it on stage.

“Two for three!!” Harry yelled when her song was called out.

Niall started hooting and clapping and in any other time or place, Zayn would’ve probably been embarrassed. “You wrote the _Best Song_ in Europe. Zayn! Can’t even imagine how that must feel! – Stop laughing!” But Niall was laughing too, now. “Why are you laughing?”

“Sheer disbelief,” Zayn answered. This couldn’t be his life. How was it that he was sitting here amongst the most talented musicians across the world and actually being acknowledged and recognized, even indirectly? It was highly unlikely that very many people in this arena would be able to look at a picture of Zayn and know who he was… And Zayn didn’t care about that part; actually, anonymity suited him very well. People knew Zayn’s _music_ and that was all he’d ever wanted.

“Believe it,” Niall said. “I know how hard you worked with Liam. And Emeli and Selena. You’re working so hard and now you’re finally getting a fraction of the recognition you actually deserve. Only up from here, baby.”

“I keep thinking this is all a dream and I’m going to wake up with my head on a table in that crummy ‘studio’ I used to have in me and Harry’s flat.”

“Maybe it’s a dream but that doesn’t mean it’s not real…”

“Ha. When did you get so philosophical??” Zayn couldn’t stop _smiling._ There was no reason to stop smiling and he didn’t think there would be one for a long while.

“I learned from you. Wait – shhh, Justin’s closing the show. He’s about to perform!” 

“I see that little crush of yours hasn’t gone anywhere,” Zayn said with an eye roll. The smile still didn’t abate though.

Niall was such an embarrassing fanboy for Justin Bieber and Zayn didn’t mind of course, but sometimes he liked to pretend he did. But not today. He kept quiet for the rest of the performance and let Niall enjoy this.

Zayn was more than happy to sit there and let everything peacefully sink in by himself. Mostly he thought about everything he still wanted to do over the next few years. These awards that Liam and Emeli had just received didn’t mean that Zayn could sit back and think he’d made it.

He still had so many things he wanted to achieve - he wanted a couple of Grammys at the least; he wanted to score a major motion picture soundtrack; he very badly wanted to work on Frank Ocean’s next album; and he wanted to record a proper lengthy mixtape with just himself on the vocals, not for distribution but to give to Niall. Not for a birthday or anything, but just because.

Zayn wanted to do so many things and this whirlwind year was only the beginning. The possibilities seemed endless and he was so excited to keep making his mark in this industry. People didn’t necessarily need to recognise his face but he'd make them know his name.

 

=================

 

The six of them, including Sophia, made an appearance at the Sony after-party which was at a club called Siroco in the center of Madrid. They mingled with Justin and Fourth Melody and had a beer in Niall’s case and a shot or three in Zayn’s case. The two of them only stayed at the party for an hour though before piling into a cab and heading back to Niall’s apartment. Liam, Louis, Harry and Sophia stayed behind at the party and Zayn fully expected them to have a great time and not go home anytime soon. Louis and Harry were staying with Niall this week along with Zayn but they’d have to find their own way back to Niall’s. 

Niall had a game the next day and he needed to get some sleep and turn up at the game without a hang-over. Niall’s dedication to Real Madrid was second only to his dedication to his family and Zayn. These past two years, Zayn had loved watching him flourish and grow as a player – Niall was happy and there wasn’t anything that Zayn wanted for him more than that.

Niall had been a _good_ player at Arsenal but with Real Madrid, he was truly excelling. He was now regarded as one of the top strikers in the world. The previous season had seen Niall become the club’s second highest scorer of that season, behind only Ronaldo, and Niall was still improving massively every year. And Zayn knew from hearing Niall talk about them all the time, how much his boyfriend loved his teammates. Niall kept saying he must have been Spanish in a different lifetime because there was no other explanation for why Real Madrid and Madrid in itself was such a good fit.

Niall loved the city; its people, its food, its culture and nightlife. He reiterated time and time again that the single bad thing about Madrid was that Zayn wasn’t in it. Zayn loved the city too, was so in awe of both the plethora of rich artistic heritage and the buzz and hum of Madrid’s modern highlights. He always found it wildly inspiring for his songwriting, whenever he came to visit Niall for a few days. 

The area of La Moraleja where Niall lived was a highly affluent district, home to some of Spain's wealthiest people and filled with colossal mansions and a number of luxury golf courses (which Niall said was the best part). Niall’s apartment building had six sprawling apartments, two on every floor; each complete with three bedrooms, two en-suite bathrooms, and oversized floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a long sparkling shared pool outside. A legit “man’s pad”.

Zayn liked the apartment well enough but he didn’t love it like he loved their house in London. (In the end, he hadn’t ended up moving out of their house – Doniya had come to London to work at a small fashion house roughly two months after Niall had left and instead of her having to fork out money for a place of her own, Zayn had invited her to come live with him. With Niall’s enthusiastic blessing, of course. She was as annoying sometimes as any sister was but the house had soon become filled with laughter and her noisy friends, so that was good.)

Niall and Zayn arrived at Niall’s apartment from the Sony after-party at around 1am and immediately made a beeline for the kitchen, after acknowledging that they were both ravenous.

“What do you want to make?” Niall asked him, his head in the fridge. “We’ve got leftover Chinese from last night. Or we can make a bit of pasta and sauce?”

The thought of leftover Chinese kind of made Zayn’s stomach lurch a little. “I want pasta,” Zayn replied. “Make it quick though, you need to get to bed.” Zayn was already heading to the right cupboards. He knew his way around pretty well; Niall had rarely changed the placement of anything over the years. Zayn took out a bag of fettuccine and got started.

“How happy are you right now?” Niall asked a few minutes later. He was at the stove stirring a pan of tomato-based sauce.

Zayn considered his question for about two seconds before saying, “Right now? Really happy. The happiest I’ve ever been, I think." He was leaning against the fridge a few feet away, letting his pot of pasta do its thing on its own. 

“Me, too. Just wanted to make sure.” Niall chuckled for some reason. “Being with you - I mean actually having you around, that’s the best part.” Niall was quiet for a long moment. “My contract with Real is up soon. My agent’s already told me they definitely want to renew – but I’m not going to accept the offer. I’m going to come back home…”

Zayn stopped his finger drumming against the fridge. “What? You love it here. I know for a fact you don’t want to leave.”

“Yeah, but…” Niall turned around to face him. The small upturn of his mouth looked bittersweet, but his eyes were as warm as ever. “It’s time to come home. I don’t want to live in a completely different city from you - I can’t. I did my thing for two years and you gave me the space to do that. I love you so much for that. You did that for me and now it’s time for me to do this for you, for us. I’m not going to spend another two years living like a bachelor when I’m really not. Don’t want to.”

Zayn took a deep breath, trying to figure out what to say. Amazingly he’d already planned to have a talk with Niall about this, but Niall had just flipped things around and beat him to it. He walked over to Niall near the stove and stood next to him, side by side. Zayn eventually said, “Of course I want to live with you, too. More than anything. But not if it means you giving up something you love so much and settling for something else... You're the one who always told me not to settle for something I like in place of something I love. And I’ve told you before - I don’t want you resenting me. I don’t need that kind of guilt and pressure hanging over my head.”

Niall shook his head at that right away and clasped Zayn’s hand. “I wouldn’t resent you. This is not about me coming home because I feel like I owe it to you… This is about me needing to be with the man I love. That’s what love and family is about, Zayn. You have to decide what’s more important to you in life and just go with that."

Zayn smiled at that, deciding to flip things himself and tell Niall what he’d been meaning to. “It means a lot that you love me enough to want to come home. But you really don’t need to do that. Seeing as I want to come _here_ …”

Niall’s head whipped to the side, to peer at Zayn with something like surprise and confusion. “What?” 

“I don’t want to live away from you, either,” Zayn explained. “And this beautiful city somehow managed to make me fall in love with it over these years. I want to live here, with you. And now I can...”

“But –“ Niall took in a deep shuddery breath. Zayn wasn’t sure if this a good reaction or bad. Niall's eyes peered searchingly into Zayn's as though he wasn't sure if Zayn was messing around. Niall looked and looked, and eventually asked, “You really mean it? You want to come here? What about your work?” He came closer and slotted himself between Zayn’s legs.

“I’ll still work.” Zayn wrapped his arms around Niall's waist. “It’s different now. Before, I needed to be in London to establish myself and be near everything, y’know? But now – it’s crazy but like, artists are actually seeking me out now… I don’t have to shop my songs around and see who wants them. They come to me.” 

“Okay – but. Are you sure? I’m so scared to get happy about this,” Niall mumbled into Zayn’s neck. “I need to be sure this is legit. Are you sure this is what you want? You like it here and you’re sure you can still work and do everything I know you want to do with your career? I don’t want you to do something big like this if you’re anything less than 100% sure.”

 “I’m 105% sure. And yeah, it matters to me too that I make absolute certain this is what I want. This isn’t something I decided 5 minutes ago,” Zayn told him. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Talked to a lot of people at work about it, reached out to a few contacts here at Sony Spain too.”

“You never said a word to me,” Niall said with a laugh. “You hate being called mysterious, but occasionally you really are.”

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to get your hopes up and then disappoint you if I ended up deciding against it. But this is what I want. Try and stop me…” Zayn stopped suddenly and sniffed the air. “I think your sauce is burning, love.”

“Oops, shit!” Niall hopped away from him and hurried over to the stove where he put the pan onto a cold plate. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Not much to salvage there...” He lifted turned off the heat on the pot of pasta and walked back over to his rightful place between Zayn’s legs.

They resumed their conversation as Zayn said, “I'm so lucky and everything is going really well - I already have quite a few good artists who want me to work on songs for them. Madrid is only a two hour flight from London, they can come to me."

After a moment of apparent contemplation, Niall nodded slowly, happily. "Yeah, I guess they can. If they want a piece of this top producer, they'd better come to you." Niall leaned in and kissed him long and meaningful. 

They pulled away sometime later and Zayn added, "It might be cool to work with some Spanish and Latin American artists too; Madrid would perfect for that. I'll see. And when I need to, I can always fly to London myself or New York or wherever. But I want to be based _here_.”

“My Da always told me to take nothing at face value.” Niall said, feigning suspicion. “This is too good to be true... What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Well, maybe. There’s one thing I want –“

“Name it. It’s yours.” Niall replied so quickly, it was pretty hilarious.

“Well, I hope you don’t get offended… But maybe we can get, like, a house?” Zayn asked slowly, treading carefully. “This is a bachelor pad and your neighbours in this building all seem to be single rowdy millionaire idiots who drive their cars way too fast. I don’t want like a big house or anything. I just want us to get a house.”

Niall gave him a peck on the lips. And then he laughed, and it was so tender. “Is that all? Seriously? I thought you were going to ask for something out of this world and I’d be struggling to deliver. Yes, we can get a house. It’s not like I’m particularly attached to this apartment. I just love the golf course down the road.”

So, Zayn had to make sure to browse for houses nearby gold courses. _Mental note to self_. He was already getting excited. He’d never gone house-hunting before. “For the first time in my life, I can actually afford to contribute towards a house. That’s maybe why I want one so bad. I know you always say the one in London is ours but in a way, it will always sort of be _yours_. Y’know? You lived there first and you paid for it. Wherever we live now, it will truly be ours.”

“The London house _is_ your house. It's ours. You have so much pride. Sometimes it's a good thing, sometimes it's not," Niall mused. “Okay, we’re getting another house. Me, you and Sammy girl. Everything I want, right here. Slap me, I must be dreaming.”

“Just because it’s a dream, doesn’t mean it’s not real…”

“Don’t steal my words,” Niall said. He poked Zayn in the stomach with his index. “If I hear those words in a song at any point in the future, I’m suing."

“If you do that, who will tell you your sauce is burning and make sure you get to bed before important games and make you come before you're even fully awake?” Zayn asked smoothly, tone matter-of-fact.

Niall pretended to consider this. Eventually he said, sighing, “Okay, I won’t sue you. Just make sure you dedicate the song to me.”

 _But they're all dedicated to you,_ Zayn thought to himself as he dragged Niall’s hyper happy arse to bed, burnt food abandoned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIN :D Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as enjoyed I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for your feedback and kudos over the months, they mean the world!!!


End file.
